#it has been tormenting my dreams at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kasagia · 18 days

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Right Hand V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: The Bene Gesserit has something... very interesting to show you—something that only makes you question your situation more. During this time, Feyd is also put to a great test. But how much can your relationship endure before you both come to the conclusion that maybe you're not meant to be together? Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

Dreams have a strange power. You can see your future and past in them. You can drift between dreamland and the real world and be semi-aware of your surroundings. You can create a new reality that is more tempting than your real life. Dreams can be either your sweet escape from reality or your dark oppressor.

For you, dreams were reminders of what had been, ghosts of the past, catching you in your most vulnerable state. But this time, you weren't dreaming about your past.

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through familiar corridors, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak.

You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime.

"Mommy!" A boy around 5 years old runs up to you and hugs your legs as you look at him in shock and confusion. “Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!” – he asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically scoop him up into your arms and place him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look past the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to you when she saw the boy in your arms.

"You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The baron told us to look after you."

"I didn't run away. I quickly left to find my mom. Dad wanted to speak with her. Besides, it's not my fault that you're so slow." Both you and the woman next to you do everything in your power not to burst out laughing. You smile, burying your face in your "son's" hair. He was so damn similar to his father and you.

The boy jumps out of your arms and grabs your hand. He runs with you through familiar corridors and hidden passages, not caring if you can keep up with him.

This way, you are in the war room in just a few seconds. Feyd stands with his back to you, analysing something on the hologram of the planets in front of him. He doesn't even flinch when the secret passage closes behind you with a bang.

"Dad, I brought mom." Your boy announces proudly, leading you to Feyd. The man turns and runs his hand through your son's hair. The little one smiles, showing a series of night-black teeth... with small cavities. He looked so damn cute. Like a little version of his father...

"Good job, Feydor. At least you are able to find your mother in her shadows. Go, torment your uncle. I've heard that you promised Rabban a great fight after our lessons." Feyd says teasingly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You roll your eyes at his comment about shadows, but you can't help but watch his interactions with your son in fascination.

Feyd was rarely around children; on Giedi Prime, they were quite... not shown much. They were a temporary inconvenience rather than a source of pride, and the noblest and most important of the inhabitants rarely cared for their own descendants. The nannies and servants usually took care of them. That's why you observed with admiration how soft and tender he was towards the boy, who was a living mix of both of you.

"I did! I can't wait to use the voice on him. I love you, dad. I love you, mom." He hugs you and practically runs to the training room, looking forward to training with his uncle.

"Just don't humiliate your uncle too much! And remember to turn on your shield!" Feyd shouts after him, and you feel like crying at the worried and caring look on his face. You've never seen him like this. Well, not when the two of you were in no danger. "In moments like these, I feel sorry for Rabban. He has to face a deadly mix of both of us. Devious beast, just like us. It doesn't matter that Rabban is not using all his strength against him; he would have defeated him anyway with his tactical mind and the tricks he learned from you. I need to start training with him so that he doesn't become too arrogant and self-confident after his numerous victories over Rabban. He must always be alert and ready for his opponent."

Honestly, you're not listening carefully to what he's saying. You are shocked by this new reality in which you find yourself. It was too surreal for you. But you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering as he spoke about his son with such tenderness and pride. Your son.

"What's wrong? You look pale. Are you two alright? You had unusual cravings again, and now you regret what you ate?" The concern in his eyes confuses you even more. He places his hand tenderly on your stomach and watches you carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort as you wonder what the hell happened to make him... like this. It must have been your imagination. This couldn't be any vision of your future, because even in your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it to be so... beautiful. "Y/N? Talk to me, my baroness. Should I call a healer?"

"I'm fine." You reply with a smile, shaking your head and placing your hand on his—the one that was still tenderly caressing your small pregnancy belly.

"You sure?" Your lips hurt from smiling as you try your hardest not to cry in front of him with emotion. So you grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He caresses your lips so gently and tangles his hand so carefully in your hair that you feel like you're about to cry from the way this rare, soft side of him makes you feel that he so bravely shows you.

"Yes... we... we are perfect." You whisper, resting your forehead against his, not at all referring to yourself and the child. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent as he draws patterns with his finger on your stomach, keeping his arm possessively around you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly and bury your face in his neck, holding him as close as you can. He laughs softly and presses a kiss on your temple.

"There you are... I almost forgot how sweetly clingy you are while carrying my heir under your heart. We should've tried for a sister for our Kwisatz Haderach a long time ago." He murmurs against your skin and lazily plays with your hair, massaging your head. "Are you sure you are feeling good? You have been very quiet. Usually, you would throw all sorts of insults and banter at me. It's not too late for you to swallow your pride and admit that you want to give birth on Arrakis or anywhere other than on this polluted planet. Damn what those old hags think of you; it won't make you any less of a Harkonnen."

Your heart swells with every word he says. It takes a lot of strength on your part not to cry in his arms and to keep your voice from shaking as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Good." You mumble, snuggling into him even more. You act as if this is really happening, like this is really supposed to be your life and future.

You have come to the conclusion that it is impossible and unrealistic for Feyd to change like this. The Harkonnens were not soft; they did not lead a tender family life and cared for their wives if they did take one. But in the end, it's your dream. So you sink into his arms, enjoying the sweet words he whispers in your ear and the way he strokes your hair.

Feyd had never been in such a hurry to get to his chambers. His heart was beating fast, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he thought about what had happened in those few hours. The baron is missing. He was kidnapped or killed by the Fremen. Feyd was to take his place until they found his uncle's body or the council officially declared him dead.

And Feyd had his suspicions about who could have contributed to the sudden disappearance of his beloved uncle. You couldn't have given him a better birthday present. In fact, you could, and he was practically running back to his chambers to pick it up.

He enters the chambers and immediately senses that it is too quiet there. He tries to dispel any suspicions and enters his bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

“Y/N?” He calls out, knocking on the table a few times to make his presence known. He peeks into the bathroom, slightly hoping that maybe you're waiting for him in the hot bath to tease him even more, but you weren't there either.

He frowns. He wonders if this isn't one of your games. Isn't that what you wanted—to play cat and mouse with him, to give him an exciting chase before he wins and can finally ravage you—but he quickly dismisses that (charming) idea. You were as desperate as he was. You wouldn't leave this room unless it was urgent. At least he hoped so.

He clenches his fists as he steps out into the main room of his chambers. The idea crosses his mind that maybe this time you actually ran away from him. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe you finally snapped; maybe he scared you too much; maybe he went a step too far today by injecting you with truth serum and torturing your former lover/friend.

After all, you didn't say you loved him. You also didn't say that you despised him or that you wanted him to leave you. You could have escaped from him when the perfect opportunity presented itself…

"My lord, Na-Baron?" The frightened tone of one of the guards' voices brings Feyd out of his thoughts. He realises that he has gone out into the hall and is standing in the doorway, staring blankly at his two men. He clears his throat and turns his cold, calculating gaze on one of them.

"Have you seen my right hand?" They both shake their heads, not daring to look at him.

"No one left or entered these chambers except you, my na-baron." His madness grows as he unintentionally compares them to you. You always had the courage to face his anger and look at him, proudly bearing his burning gaze.

If you really run away from him... he will unleash hundreds of hounds, bring you back to him at all costs, and make sure you never leave his side again. He won't give a fuck if that's what you want. He gave you countless opportunities to leave him and end things between you two in a civilised way without brutality or bloodshed, but you didn't want it. The only thing stopping you two from being together were your stupid prejudices and fear. He planned to get rid of them completely once he got his hands on you again.

"Bring her to me." He growls at them, turning to go back to his chambers.

"But my lord..." Before the soldier can finish his sentence, Feyd reaches for his blade and cuts his throat with one skillful move. It eases the tension in his muscles a little, but the moment the man falls dead to the floor in front of him, his mood sours again. Because he remembers how, in moments like these, you often gave him a disapproving look and cleaned up the mess he made.

He growls at the other soldier, who is shaking with fear, to clean up and closes the door behind him with a loud bang. He had to find you. You got too deep under his skin for him to just forget about you. First, he had to determine whether you disappeared alone or whether someone had helped you. And God save him who dared to steal his baroness from under his nose.

He carefully examines his chambers, slowly exploring every corner. He frowns when he sees a familiar, polished dagger in his weapon collection. He picks it up and looks at it carefully. It was your blade. The one you had attached to your thigh. You had never left it—not since you got it from him for your birthday.

"Na-baron. You wanted to see me." You say, walking onto the balcony of his chambers. Feyd doesn't turn towards you. He stares at Giedi Prime spread out below him, the city completely shrouded in darkness. Only the few white stars that managed to penetrate the polluted atmosphere illuminated the planet with a pale glow. You quickly catch the hint and stand next to him, also looking at the buildings.

"I hate it here." He confesses to you without knowing why. "My home planet had seas, lakes, wild landscapes, and tundra that no one dared to tame. And here everything is so..."

"Controlled. Polluted. Defiled. Exploited. No room for anything... wild or natural." You finish for him. He nods, agreeing with your words.

It's been two years since you served him. And he had to admit that he didn't have such a good man on whom he could always count. You were extraordinary. Loyal, faithful, brave, honourable, and cunning. Feyd wanted to liberate you. Not many could live up to his expectations, but you seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed after just one look. It aroused in him... strange feelings. Disturbing. But he didn't think about it when he was around you.

He preferred to admire your… difference. The hair that flowed slightly in the wind, the way your eyebrows knitted together in anger when someone questioned your position as his right-hand man, the way you walked, the way you could disappear into the shadows, the cunning and strength of your mind. You were an extraordinary woman. He started to appreciate you for the time you spent planning together. Nightly conversations about the nobility of Giedi Prime, your battle plans, and court intrigues became… something other than work for him. He was starting to like being close to you.

And at night, when he was with his concubines... he found himself imagining you in their place. And how much he wanted you... so much so lately that every little thing you did was the hottest, erotic act for him, even the way you moaned in appreciation when you ate good food. He was fucked up. Like a teenager in love.

But he didn't love you. He could not. His uncle had told him many times that the Harkonnens knew no love or affection. He just had to wait until this desire passed or find another right hand and make you his concubine, which was a much more difficult task. There were many pussies and holes he could have used, but you were the only one who seemed to have a mind even remotely like his. He couldn't afford to lose such a good strategist and soldier.

"Do you need anything, Na-Baron?" Your gentle question brings him out of his thoughts. He nods and goes to his chambers. He returns quickly with a black box in his hands. He hands it to you, carefully watching your reaction.

"Happy birthday, little witch." He says, not hiding a small smirk when he sees your shock. He managed to surprise you so rarely that he treated every such moment with reverence, as if it were the most important moment of his life. Pathetic. What power you had over him…

"How did you..."

"I have my ways too. Open it." He interrupts you, excited by your reaction to his gift. He puts his hands behind his back, feeling his fingers tremble slightly as they begin to sweat. He ignores it, completely focused on you as you gently untie the white bow and open the box. You hold your breath, staring at the dagger in awe. "Steel from my home planet. Don't stab yourself with it by accident. When it pierces someone's body, a piece of the blade dissolves under the heat of the attacker's blood. A small dose of this metal in the human body causes, in the worst case, a moribund state and death. We call it the shadow killer because death occurs hours after the attack unless an antidote is administered."

"I... I don't know what to say." You whisper, taking out the blade and running your fingertips over it. He looks at you with pride. He made it all by himself. For you. A detail he would take with him to his grave rather than admit to anyone.

"You can thank me. Didn't the Bene Gesserit teach you this?" He asks teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him. However, you give him such a beautiful smile that his black, rotten heart beats faster, letting him know about you for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Feyd." He melts when you say his name. You used it so infrequently that he had every little moment seared into his memory when you let your professionalism slip through and did it. And he loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He couldn't help but imagine what it would sound like when you shouted it, under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, we Harkonnens kiss each other on the lips as an expression of gratitude." He says this as your eyes move back to the dagger. He sees you freeze at the memory of it. You blush slightly, but enough for Feyd to notice the slight change. And he absolutely loves seeing you blushing and confused.

"I'm not a Harkonnen." You respond with a cheeky smile, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"But you are on our planet. I guess you should follow our rules and customs, right? Besides, in a few years, you'll be considered one of us."

"If I survive."

"I think you have a good chance." He smiles at your banter. The pride in his chest grows even more when, instead of looking at his black teeth in horror, you giggle, unfazed. You were so different…

However, he freezes when you take a step towards him. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. He almost moans into your mouth like a total slut. It takes all of his willpower not to kiss you back, not to pull you closer, and not to actually taste your lips. But he can't. He won't show that he is that weak for you. So he keeps this fake kiss very professional. He is digging his nails into his palms until they bleed, as he is too afraid that he will accidentally reach for your body and pull you closer to him.

You pull away from him as suddenly as you place your lips on him. And he's both shocked and angry that your lips left his so quickly. His eyes wander to your lips as you lick them. Feyd curses himself for how badly he wants that pink tongue of yours to wrap around his own... or the hardening manhood in his pants.

"Thank you, Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." You whisper and head towards the exit, leaving him there, completely horny and wanting more of you—your touch, your kisses, your lips, your taste, your everything. He feels himself blushing at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

"Your welcome, my little witch." He mumbles as you disappear back into your shadows. He puts his bloody fingertips on his lips, tasting his blood. He closes his eyes, imagining how sweet you must taste...

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

"Brother… I mean... my Baron…" Rabban's voice reaches him vaguely as he continues to recall that day. Now he knew the taste of your lips... and your more intimate parts. And damn him if he doesn't put his fingers and tongue on you again.

"What?" He growls at him furiously, unsheathing his dagger and attaching yours to his body. The blade of the dagger was a bit uneven. And soft in his hands. It must have been used recently. And from the dried blood on the handle, he guessed that someone had clumsily tried to clean it. Someone took you from him.

He returns to the bedroom and grabs your shawl from the floor. He puts it to his nose and inhales your scent. He calms down a little—not enough for his fury to disappear, but enough to start thinking logically.

He was going to turn Arrakis into a living hell.

"The council has met. All high families. They are waiting for you."

Feyd would ignore it and go straight to find you, but your disgruntled face appears before his eyes. He would know that you would advise him to go to the council and present himself as best as possible—show his strength. He sighed, wrapping your shawl around his wrist as he made a decision.

"I see. Let's go." He announces this as he leaves the room and doesn't wait for Rabban to follow him. His brother runs after him, cursing under his breath as he tries to keep up with his fast pace. Feyd had a plan in his head and a clear goal. He'll have you in his arms at the end of the day, or he'll burn this damn planet down looking for you.

"And your witch?" Feyd suddenly stops. He turns his head slowly and looks at his brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

He shakes his head, knowing full well that you would castrate his brother before allowing him and his men to take you away. Rabban was too stupid for that and too afraid of him. If Feyd had to bet on who did it, he would choose the Bene Gesserit or Atreides with his Fremen.

"She won't be there. Order our men to close the airspace and monitor movements in the desert. Tell them to keep an eye on the Reverend Mothers and the Bene Gesserit. If they object to or question my decision, order to tell them that the baron is only trying to keep them safe. They are to report their every move to me. Once you've done that, join the meeting."

"Me?" He asks in shock, following obediently after him.

"You are my brother. We have to show that we are strong and that there are no divisions between us. Especially after my uncle is dead. They may think we are weak targets and want to get rid of us, just like we did with the Atreides. We must assert our dominance."

Rabban nods, looking at him warily. Feyd doesn't care what he looks like. They took you away from him. He'll do anything to get you back. It doesn't matter if he makes you seem mad or a worse psychopath than he already is.

Why does he need a reputation as a bloodthirsty beast if someone dared to get their hands on what's his anyway? People sentenced themselves to death and then dared to say that he was unpredictable. Pathetic idiots. He hoped you were giving them hell. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought of someone hurting you while he had to deal with the nobility.

"Let's be honest. Baron Vladimir is dead. Paul Atreides is still at large, probably planning our murder, and the Fremen are rampaging in the desert, worshipping the false prophet. What are you going to do about it, Baron Feyd Rautha?" Feyd clenched his fists under the table. He slowly stopped being surprised that his uncle had become such a man.

After talking to the emperor for a moment, he felt like cutting out his tongue and gouging out the eyes of other high families staring at him. As if his role was to play their hero...

"We have already taken the first measures. It only takes a few bombs to extinguish the spirit of these desert rats. As for Paul Atreides... my people are looking for him. And my right hand went missing the night my uncle died. We suspect this is a related case. I'm going to head out into the desert and join the search. Of course, leaving members of high families in the care of my brother and some of our people. No one will leave Arrakis until the traitors are killed."

His calm, unruffled demeanour, and silent threat caused a slight stir in the room. Feyd suppressed a smirk. He loved controlling the crowd this way. However, he knew that impressing the emperor would be more difficult. Words were not enough to prove that the Harkonnens were a force they should be afraid of. And so far, his brother and uncle have only brought humiliation to their family. He had to fix it. Only with you by his side. That's why he had to leave this pointless meeting as soon as possible and start taking some action. His weapon craved blood.

"It wouldn't be the first time a concubine had gone missing." Princess Irulan comments. Feyd shifts his gaze to her, analysing her carefully. She was paler than usual, her posture more indifferent, as if she were trying hard to hide her true emotions behind her mask. Feyd made a note to look at her more closely.

"Probably not, Princess Irulan. However, in light of recent events—the Atreides attack, the death of my dear uncle, and the increased activity of the Fremen—I am certain that this is not a mere disappearance. This is a deliberate action. Attack on noble houses. Attack on the Harkonnens. And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby." After his words, silence fell in the room. Feyd delights in the shocked look from the princess and the nobles in the room.

"The baby?"

"My heir she carries." Feyd nods, repeating his words to the emperor.

Feyd could barely contain his smirk, knowing full well how much you would like to see the faces of representatives of great houses now. To say they were shocked was an understatement. But what else was he supposed to say? That he goes looking for you with a thousand of his troops because he loves you and simply can't lose you? Only the thought of losing his heir was... a good reason to search all of Arrakis and close the airspace—any possibility of leaving the planet.

Because who would stop Harkonnen from desperately searching for the woman who carries his heir? Even a fool wouldn't dare. And if the Bene Gesserit were behind your kidnapping, they wouldn't dare do anything to you either after hearing that... surprising information. After all, they needed his offspring for their plans. Why would they destroy one? Feyd just hoped to get to you first before anyone discovered that you weren't pregnant at all.

"You horny dog! Why didn't you say anything?" Rabban pats him on the back, laughing hoarsely. It breaks the awkward silence in the room. But still, everyone's eyes are on him.

"We preferred to wait with any celebration until we were sure that the baby was growing healthily. After all, this could be our Kwisatz Hederach. Of course, now the safe return of my fiancée with our child is much more important. Therefore, I hope that the Emperor will consent to whatever… measures I intend to take in this matter. Whoever dared to raise a hand against the Harkonnens will pay the weight of their crimes in blood." Feyd continues his lies, knowing full well that you will kick his ass when you find out he called you his fiancée in front of great houses.

"But… I talked to the Baron…"

"My uncle... has not been in good health for a long time. May he rest in peace. Whatever arrangement he made with you, the emperor, during my reign it must be discussed again. Unfortunately, he will not rise from the grave and give us all the details."

"Of course… Baron Feyd-Rautha." The Emperor nods at him. Feyd takes the opportunity and decides to leave the room while he can. He nods to his brother, who turns out to be intelligent enough to understand the message and stands up as well.

"Excellent. If you don't mind, we'll leave now."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just goes out, with Rabban close behind him. He orders him to prepare the army for the march and place spies around the fortress. They split up halfway to Feyd's rooms. He goes to prepare for his departure, hoping that Rabban will cope with the tasks he has entrusted to him. He missed you. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything if you were by his side.

He sighs as he enters his chambers. He stops in his tracks, seeing Princess Irulan next to his collection of weapons. He closes the door behind him with a bang, announcing his presence. The woman trembles and turns towards him.

"Baron."

"Princess." He responds coldly, looking at her carefully. He didn't say anything more. He wanted her to explain her sudden presence in his chambers. He notices, however, that his new title sounds nasty coming from her mouth, no matter how seductively she tries to say it. He imagines you whispering it in his ear as you ride him on his new throne on Giedi Prime...

"I thought you were leaving." He returns to the present moment, making sure he remembers to fulfil this fantasy once you both get back from this damn planet.

"I needed to change first." He replies and clears his throat, suggesting that she should leave. Unfortunately, she either doesn't want to or doesn't understand his hint and stays where she is, watching him carefully.

He feels like he's playing chess. One wrong move, and he loses a pawn. He hated this game until you started playing with him in the evenings, when you exchanged gossip from the court and your own comments. He doesn't remember how many times you fell asleep and he carried you to his bed. His harpies hated these evenings, and he too hated them at the beginning. Over time, he was just waiting for that moment when he was able to watch you snuggle into his pillow, sleeping peacefully.

"I… that's good. I was hoping to talk to you before you left."

"Talk then." He says this and starts taking off his clothes. He notices her blush and the way she looks away. But there's nothing sweet or funny about this gesture, unlike the way you do it. He changes into his usual tactical battle armour as fast as he can, still thinking about the way you used to even shout at him when he was going fully naked around you.

"I was shocked by this news. About the baby. And your fiancée."

"Why?"

"Well, you know very well, my lord, that the Bene Gesserit has planned to unite our families. This shouldn't have happened." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, feeling the anger start to boil within him again. How dare she tell him what he should do? Who should get pregnant, and who should not? He didn't care what the Bene Gesserit wanted. Feyd wanted you, and you probably wanted him. That was all that mattered.

"Would you rather be at my fiancée's place? Would you rather carry my baby instead of her?" He asks dangerously, approaching her slowly. Before she can react, he lunges forward and almost crushes her neck in his grip when he prevents her from using the voice. "You are trembling with fear, princess. It is pathetic that the Bene Gesserit even thought we could connect in any way. Even if we got married, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. At best, I would kill you right after I consolidated my power as emperor. Now that we both know where we stand... Tell me, where is my little witch?"

"The Reverend Mother sent her to Paul Atreides' hideout." She answers him obediently. Feyd smirks sadistically and maliciously as her eyes widen in shock when she realises he has used the voice on her. "How?" She managed to ask before Feyd tightened his grip on her throat again, giving her a bored look.

"With one of your witches by my side, do you think I won't do anything to learn your tricks? I'm not an idiot to let an opportunity like this pass me by. You think that I didn't also see you wince with every move at the meeting? This must have happened right after my fiancée stabbed you when you kidnapped her, right? The poison took effect, didn't it? Are you feeling weak? Do you feel how you slowly lose your vitality with each breath? It will get even worse. Maybe my fiancée will have the mercy to give you the antidote, but I have no intention of doing so. Now listen to me carefully. You won't say or write even a word to inform anyone about what happened. You will lock yourself in your room and endure the effects of the poison without complaining to anyone that something is wrong with you. Get out of my sight before I finish my beloved's work."

He throws her away like a rag doll, feeling defiled just by touching her neck. The only reason he kept her alive was because she was the emperor's daughter, and he couldn't afford to get rid of her YET. She runs away from him as soon as his grip on her neck is gone.

He smiles mockingly and leaves his chambers as well. Now that he knew you would be in the desert, he was going to dig up those damn sand folds and kill all the Fremen and Bene Gesserit who had a hand in your kidnapping.

And once you are by his side again, he will give you the heads of the princess, Corrino's Reverend Mother, and Atreides on a golden platter—an engagement present worthy of a real baroness. Well, he'll have to convince you to marry him first. He sighs, realising how much work is still ahead of him.

You wake up feeling numb. Entirely. There's a gag in your mouth, your hands are tied behind your back, and your ankles are cuffed together, completely preventing you from moving.

You look around your surroundings, realising that you are in one of the Fremen hideouts. A small room carved into the sandy rock resembles a prison cell. You gasp as you try to get off the floor. With a groan, you lean against the cold wall behind you as you somehow manage to sit up. You wonder how the hell you ended up here. And how can you escape when you are completely incapacitated?

Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and Corrino's Reverend Mother enters. You look at the woman with a calculating gaze, showing no emotion other than disgust.

"Y/N Y/L/N. We thought you were dead."

You roll your eyes at her. The old hag knew perfectly well that you had a gag. The fact that she expected any response from you was ridiculous.

"You betrayed your sisters. We should have killed you the moment you were recognised by one of us. You're lucky we're still keeping you alive."

You would snort if you didn't have a gag in your mouth. The Bene Gesserit knew no mercy; if they kept you alive, it was because they still needed you in their plans. After all, you were the strongest of them, which might not be visible now, but it was the truth. They didn't train you all your life and shape you into their ideal form of some sick Holly Mother, just to throw you away now.

You are tensing as the old woman walks up to you and painfully grabs your jaw. You glare at her furiously with your own, not showing an ounce of fear or remorse. What you wouldn't give to have at least a butter knife with you…

"Do you think you are smart, child? That you managed to escape fate? Not at all. Our visions may have been blurry, but now we see everything. Paul Atreides sees everything. After his plan succeeds, he becomes emperor, and you will become his concubine and the mother of the Kwisatz Hederach. Until then, we will keep you under control."

"Who allowed you to come in here?" A cold, commanding voice echoes throughout the small cell. The Reverend Mother steps away from you as if she's been burned by him, giving you the opportunity to look at Paul Atreides as she steps inside. You shiver as his cold gaze falls on you, but you show them nothing but disgust and anger. If you're going to die, at least you will make sure that before you do that, you'll be remembered by them as one big pain in the ass.

"I..."

"Silience!" Atreides yells at her as she feebly tries to explain herself to him. You frown, wondering how the hell he gained such power over the Bene Gesserit. "Leave us alone."

The woman nods obediently and leaves, closing the bars to your cell behind her. You shift your gaze to Atreides, examining him carefully. He was… more portly than you remembered him last time. He became stronger, tougher, and visibly hardened by the sands of Arrakis, since his posture was stiff as armour. You catch yourself thinking that if he stood in the arena in Giedi Prime, he would still lose to your na-baron.

"I am not here to hurt you, Y/N." Atreides says, walking over to you. He crouches down so that you are both at the same height. You look closely at the features of his face, analysing them carefully, trying to read what's behind the strange behaviour of the mysterious Fremen's prophet. "We both have our roles to play here. Something that is above us. I learned a lot about you.I know about your service to the Harkonnens, what you endured as a Bene Gesserit, and every darkest part of your past. And I know you are a wise and very strong woman. You probably understand why all this is so important and why we must fulfil the prophecy and take our places in this story." He says, removing your gag. You clear your throat as he finishes his speech, and, trying to hide your concern, you growl, your voice so hoarse and dripping with madness that Feyd would surely be proud of you:

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head." Atreides gives you a small smile. He shakes his head, amused by what you're saying. He stands up, helping you to stand on your two feet as well, placing his hands on your waist respectfully, and touching you as little as necessary.

"Come with me. Let me show you something." He says this in an extremely calm voice as he removes the chain from around your ankles. You briefly consider kicking him and trying to escape, but you realise there's not much you can do with your hands tied. You are also still weak—too weak to maintain control over someone else for long with the voice. "Do not be afraid. I told you. I have no reason to hurt you." He encourages, concluding that your hesitation is out of fear and not a desire to attack him.

"I lived for years among the Harkonnens. I'm not afraid of anything except myself."

He gives you an ironic smirk, as if he were convinced that he was an evil worse than the Harkonnens. You don't care about his poor attempts to intimidate you. You weren't some desert rat to be terrified of a man with nice curls and eyes.

You walk through a series of corridors, and of course he leads you, holding your arm tightly and making sure you don't do anything stupid on this little trip around his kingdom. It brings you great satisfaction. Your reputation had obviously taken its toll if he continued to be vigilant around you while you were still half sedated and tied up without any weapons.

You smile sadistically at the Fremen you pass. They look away from you, too afraid to meet your gaze. You were known among them as the Na-Baron's bloodthirsty right-hand, whose cruelty rivalled that of many Harkonnens.

You and Atreides go deeper down. You slowly start to feel dizzy from the number of corridors, corners, and stairs he tells you to take, but eventually you reach a more spacious room. You sigh, feeling the humid air—a sweet change from the dry Arrakis wind. Atreides takes the torch and leads you deeper into the room. You gasp as you see a large pool full of water.

"The Fremen treat water as something sacred. They collect it from the bodies of their people; the water of the more deserving people goes to such pools."

"This is a waste. And stupid, considering that they are dying from a lack of water while having pools of it safely hidden from the Harkonnens." You notice, staring at the pool of water. You tense as you feel Paul's searching gaze on you. You turn your head and give him an intimidating look. He doesn't even flinch. He is unfazed as he continues to analyse you—something you don't like at all. You wish Feyd was here. He would gouge Atreides' eyes out the first time his gaze lingered on you for a second too long.

"Possible. But it's not the first time we waste something in the name of faith, right?"

"Faith befuddles and stupefies. Same as prophecies. We are responsible for our own fate. It doesn't matter what some crazy old man wrote in the books a hundred years ago, probably under the influence of drugs or other alcohol. No one influences our future except ourselves."

His silence at your words worries you. You turn your head to look at him. A small smirk spreads across his face—a sign that your words didn't outrage him as much as they were supposed to. He nods, agreeing with your words, and you realise what he really means. The son of a bitch was testing you. Logical, considering that he was the one who started the cult of him. He thought like you. He did not believe in any Kwisatz Hederach, and even if he did, he considered himself one. He just needed you to keep the propaganda and people's faith in him.

He wanted to show that he had tamed the Harkonnen's witch.

Atreides walks over to you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, directing you to a different side of the room. You pass by a pool of water. In the centre, there is a large stone bowl on a platform.

"The Reverend Mothers call it the mirror of wisdom. It shows us our future if we continue on the path we are currently on. Look. See what awaits you with your crazy beast by your side."

"It's very brave of you to think that I'm not one." He chuckled at your words. He lets go of you and takes two steps back, keeping his amused, curious gaze on you.

"The Harkonnens are different from us. You may think you are one of them, that you have absorbed their ways and behaviours, but the truth is that you are not one of them at all. You may have adapted to survive among them, but can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't long for something more... normal?"

"Normality is for the weak." You reply, huffing furiously. "Apart from that, my life has always been different from normal. This is my normality, Atreides."

"Even the bravest warrior needs a break, a moment of respite. Look. Aren't you curious?"

You were very damn curious. Especially after that strange dream/vision you had. So, without saying a word, you approach the bowl of water. You take a breath and dive your head into it, letting the images flood your mind.

This time you are not on Giedi Prime, and you are not a participant in the events. From a distance, you watch the older version of yourself adjust the crown on her head. Empress's crown.

You see yourself flinching in the mirror as the door to your chamber bursts open. Feyd, dressed as an emperor, walks in furiously, heading straight for you. He pushes the large mirror, smashing it against the wall with a roar.

However, you don't care about his sudden attack and watch him, unfazed, as he gasps with rage.

"Is something wrong, honey?" You ask in an almost too-sweet tone, mocking him.

"Do you have the nerve to ask me that? Why don't you tell me where my concubine is instead? Where did you send her? You gave the corpses to the harpies to eat? If any harm has come to her, I will make you eat all three of them before I tear out your cunning heart from your chest, witch."

"You'd have to touch me first. And we both know that lately you're more afraid of laying a finger on me than of our son dethroning you. Which is very surprising, by the way. Has that concubine of yours brainwashed you so much?" You see yourself smiling mockingly as you watch his anger grow with every word you say.

"Don't talk about her like that. Unlike you, she's not a cold, uncaring, selfish bitch."

"Of course not. A smart woman wouldn't willingly sleep with you." This completely breaks the remnants of his composure. He walks over to the older version of you and wraps his hand around her neck, pressing her against the wall.

But he doesn't do it the same way he does with you. It's not a gentle neck hold, a warning, or anything sexual—something that would turn you both on. He just cuts you off, choking you, watching with sick satisfaction as you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What's stopping me from ending your miserable life? You have already given me a son; your usefulness has long passed, and yet I still let you breathe the same air as me." He says this, tightening his grip on your neck. You gasp as he pushes you away.

From the way you fall to the floor and choke for air, you assume that the older version of you was only seconds away from suffocating. But you don't surrender to him; you don't give him any satisfaction in trying to intimidate you. You start laughing derisively, shaking your head in amusement as you slowly get up from the floor.

"Aw... you couldn't kill me. You're like a dog. You bark and do little. You love me too much to kill me, don't you remember? How did you beg me all those years ago for a piece of my feelings? Who said I love you first? Who was begging on his knees for my hand? Who wanted to have a child? You. You are just a desperate little boy looking for love and affection. You probably even liked the fact that I'm jealous of you and kill your lover? Unfortunately, I don't give a shit who you fuck. I didn't steal your whore, so get out and don't waste my time, husband." You mock him, waiting expectantly for his next move.

He stares at you with pure hatred and resentment. You feel the tension in the room begin to build; the immense anger and disgust between the two of you are palpable. You have no fucking idea how you came to be so hostile towards each other, but... you can't say you're surprised. Because if you were already imagining a future with Feyd... this was the scenario that came to your mind most often.

The two of you were too broken to trust each other and entrust each other with the remnants of the heart that beat and remained within you.

Feyd looks like he wants to say something. But he gives up and instead just leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You swallow, observing your pathetic fate. The empress locked in a golden palace. At eternal war with everyone. Lonely. Your heart aches at the thought of this being your fate. This is what you were running from. Before relegating you solely to the vessel she was to carry and give to the world, Kwisatz Hederach, Because what would be the use of you then? You would be rejected and alone. Waiting to die. However, you didn't expect your end to look like THIS.

A figure emerges from the darkness of the room through a hidden passage—a man who is a copy of you and Feyd. You see a similarity in him, in your movements, in your creeping through the shadows. He approaches you from behind, holding a dagger similar to the one Feyd gave you on your birthday. You don't react when you feel steel around your neck, as if you had long ago come to terms with how you would die—and by whose hands.

"You were right, mother… I was destined to achieve much more."

And with that, he cuts your throat. Crimson blood runs down your dress, almost invisible against the black material. You die quickly. Quietly. Like a rat...

"Have you seen something interesting?" Atreides' voice reaches you as you step away from the bowl after the vision ends. You sigh heavily, breathing heavily. Drops of water roll down your face and soak into your linen shirt.

"Screw you." You snap at him, trying to wipe your face on the frame. He tears off a piece of his shavl and walks over to you. He wipes the water from your face and hair, not caring about the scowl you throw at him in warning.

"I told you. The future with Harkonnen cannot end well. But if you stay with me, I promise nothing will happen to you. You can be more free with me than you ever could with him."

And you're tempted as hell to accept his offer. You can't say you're not interested at all, that what you saw hasn't made you question your choices... but you've been a Harkonnen for so many years. Could you really forget all this so easily? Forget about Feyd? Maybe in that stupid Bene Gesserit's bowl you saw your tragic end at his side... but did it really have to end like this? You could avoid all this. Take a risk to gain something much better...

"So this is your offer? Freedom and security for lending my uterus for 9 months?" You ask him, wanting to know exactly what options and choices you have.

"In very simple terms, yes." He nods, still staring at you. You find this very irritating of him; you were usually the one who pierced other people with your gaze. Not the other way around.

"What for? You're telling these fools that you're their saviour and the messiah. Kwisatz Hederach, ahead of his time. Why do you need me?"

"I need the support of the Reverend Mothers of other families. I may have... your powers and be the strongest of them all, but I've learned that if you can gain someone's support in a peaceful way, it's better to try it before reaching for a weapon."

Atreides stared at you like you were a puzzle to solve. You didn't like the hidden arrogance in his eyes—the belief that he was truly capable of discovering all your secrets.

Maybe he knew your past, and maybe he saw visions of the future, possible scenarios of what might have happened after his decisions, but the present was yours. And only yours. You will be more than happy to show him that no one could tear out all your fangs and claws.

"Feyd will kill you sooner and bind me with tighter chains than you did, than he ever allowed such a turn of events." You say confidently, convinced that he won't just leave you. In this situation, it's a huge relief for you... but in your head, you can still see his sadistic smirk as he choked you against the wall.

"Not if I kill him." You tense up at his words, and your heart starts to beat faster as you process his words. You would never think that Feyd Rautha could ever die—not by another person's hand, of course. And certainly not Atreides.

He fought too well, was too intelligent and cunning to fail in battle, and yet... you couldn't deny that that one simple sentence Paul said with such confidence didn't send a cold shiver of fear down your spine or that you felt no threat.

"Have you ever seen him in the arena? Or how does he fight? You may have become stronger thanks to your time on Arrakis, but he was trained from childhood to be a small, psychopathic killer and ruthless warrior. You don't stand a chance, Atreides. You won't last a minute fighting him."

"Maybe not in an equal fight. But by trick? More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man."

"Are you talking about your father or maybe even your mother?" You ask mockingly, making his jaw tense and his hands clench into fists. You are very pleased with yourself that you finally managed to hit his sweet spot. Feyd would be proud of you.

"I'm talking about what will happen. Feyd Rautha will die. From my hands." The more he talks about it, the more your anger grows. However, you decide to stay calm and continue the little exchange between the two of you, trying to get something useful from him.

"Are you that sure about your visions? You don't hesitate for a moment, Atreides? It must be so boring knowing what's going to happen. Never having any element of surprise…"

"There are no more certain and clear visions than mine. Maybe you should also start believing in them?"

"Not as long as I have my brain." And my own visions. You add it in your mind, thinking about what you had dreamed about before you woke up in this hole.

"The rumors about you don't lie… Harkonnen's witch." He hums as he walks over to you. His hand reaches up to your cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe your cheek clean of the drop of water still left on it.

You shiver, staring into his eyes. His touch burns, but not in a nice, familiar way. And when you realise that the reason you're not attracted to him is because he doesn't have the familiar ice-blue irises, pale skin, and bald head, it scares you more than Atreides' sudden proximity to you.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Atreides." You whisper, moving away from him. You quickly lean in, wanting to bite, or preferably bite off, his finger that was caressing your skin, but he withdraws his hand and takes a step away from you. He laughs at your feeble attempt to harm him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the ground around you starts shaking. The sand rock crumbles, causing some of it to fall from the ceiling onto the ground. Atreides looks at you suspiciously.

"Didn't you see it in your visions? Maybe there's a sandworm crawling through your halls?" You ask mockingly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Stay here." He commands you using the voice. He doesn't spare you a second glance, simply heading for the exit. You look at him in disbelief and quickly follow him. The last thing you want is to get buried in one of these rats' corridors because one of them summoned a sandworm in the wrong way.

"I could be of much more use to you there than here." You say, as you are catching up with him, desperately trying to convince him.

"Not if these are Harkonnens!" He replies without looking back and slamming the door shut. You kick them in rage, looking around angrily at the large hall where he left you.

"That's the point…" You sigh, fed up with it all. You walk around the room, trying to find a way out, but even when you manage to find the side passages, you can't take a step beyond the threshold. You are forced to stay inside. "Fucking Atreides."

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the room, you decide to try and break the shackles that bind your hands. You try to smash them against the stalagmite, only to hit harder as the metal cuts into your wrists. After a while, when you have released all your anger, you somehow manage to free your hands. You rub your wrists, letting your blood soak into the sleeve of your linen shirt. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet sound of the water and the footsteps you hear from the upper floors. Something is happening...

Frustrated, you wander over to the pool filled with water. You crouch on the edge and dip your toes in the water. You watch the drops fall, wondering how many people have already given their lives. How many died at the hands of the Harkonnens? You wonder whether your water and blood will also join the ranks of their victims. It seems surreal to you now that Feyd could ever kill you or your own son... but how were you supposed to know what your future was supposed to be? Were you supposed to trust some strange visions or yourself?

While playing with water, you freeze when you suddenly see someone leaning over you. Before you can turn around, a hand covers your mouth, and another wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You scream and kick, trying to get out of someone's tight grip, but your attempts to break free are futile. You freeze when you hear a familiar, raspy voice whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry, it's me. It's just me. Shhh… You're safe. It's me." You relax a little in his arms. You reach your hand up to his and remove it from your mouth. He loosens his grip enough for you to turn in his arms.

"Feyd." You sigh when you see his face. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. You rest your chin on his shoulder and breathe in his scent as you hold onto him tightly.

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as well. He places a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. After a moment, he pulls away from you—not too far away, only a bit—so he can look at your face and see if you have any injuries.

"You're getting out of here. Our men are hidden in every corridor of this hole. Take a few of them and go to the exit. They will take you to the ship. Wait for me there." He gently cups your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. Your heart beats faster as you recognise that concerned look in his eyes from your dream, mixed with anger. "Y/N. I mean it. I know you want to fight; you're brave and a great warrior, but do it for me and just go to that damn ship."

"No. Wait, listen to me. I have to tell you something..."

"You'll tell me you love me later, now you have to get out of here, so I can destroy this place." He interrupts you, gently pushing you towards the exit. You feel anger and frustration building within you as yet another person tries to control you and tell you what to do. No matter how sweet and protective Feyd is acting now, you are fed up with constantly obeying everyone around you.

"Stop!" You shout at him, making him stop in his tracks in shock. Under any other circumstances, you would laugh at the surprised look he gives you, but not now. "Do you trust me?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. You know you're asking a lot of him right now, but if you're going to change your future, you have to act now. And fast. Very fast.

"Y/N this isn't the best…"

"Do you trust me?!" You interrupt him, raising your voice. He must see the desperation and seriousness in your eyes because you see him swallow, considering the question you've asked him. You unconsciously hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

You both know this isn't an ordinary question. It means something more. Admitting something you both had been avoiding since the first day your blades met in a little skirmish that earned you his sympathy. He had long admired you for your mind, intelligence, ingenuity, cunning, and natural charm. But could he trust you completely?

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You take a step towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him. He tenses in surprise but kisses you back pretty quickly, moaning into your mouth as you express all the passion and desire you feel for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his to make sure this isn't some dream. You caress the skin of his neck, shuddering as an electric shiver runs through you as he deepens the kiss, taking everything you have to offer him.

Kissing Feyd always felt like it was the first kiss between the two of you. He kissed like he fought—with his whole being, not holding back, transmitting all his passion and desire. He didn't even know how much you needed to taste all of him right now. And how bittersweet that kiss was for you.

You reluctantly pull away from him and press your forehead against his. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"I love you, Feyd. I have always loved you. And I was very afraid of it, but I'm not anymore... I... I don't want to be scared of this anymore." You admit it as a single tear falls from your eyes. He reaches to wipe it off, but you shake your head. His hand freezes, hanging between you as he stares at you in shock, trying to process what you said.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you the same thing, you lean in and kiss him again. Slower, more gentle. A few tears escape you, allowing you both to taste them through the kiss.

You reach for the sword attached to his waist with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet." You whisper, moving away from him just as Paul Atreides returns to the room. He slowly walks towards you, his sword dripping with black Harkonnen blood. And you decide that if anyone spills blood in this room, it will be you. It must be you.

So when Paul is about to approach you and stab Feyd in the back, you close your eyes and stab Feyd with his sword. You hear him let out a shaky breath as his black blood slowly seeps from the wound, staining your hands. You keep your other hand on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. You try to ignore him, not look at him or in his eyes... you simply cannot. Instead, you stare at Atreides.

Paul is beyond shocked by your actions. He looks for a moment at Feyd's black sword, the tip sticking out of his back—proof of what you did. After a moment, his eyes meet yours. After a while, he approaches you, sheathes his sword, and smiles proudly.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N." He says this, offering you his hand, which you reach for. You shake them, glaring at each other, assessing each other's behaviour as a new agreement forms between you.

You smile, hiding your fear as best as you can and holding back tears when you see Feyd's unconscious body out of the corner of your eye. But you've come too far to change your mind. From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you.

To be continued...

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t

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atlabeth · 15 days

Text

(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao

wc: 9k

warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333

You’d never been this restless before.

Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way.

No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through.

He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would.

He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.

In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that.

But you were not there.

You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing.

You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.

“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”

“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours.

She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.”

“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.

“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.”

You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”

“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.”

“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?”

“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile.

“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.”

“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.”

“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?”

She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.”

“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.”

You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life.

“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?”

No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it.

Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused.

“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”

Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—”

“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”

“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.”

“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.”

“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.”

“Truly?” you asked softly.

Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile.

“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.”

Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.”

“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.”

Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”

You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew.

You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you.

Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official.

It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…

Then, he would propose.

You would accept.

And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears.

“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.”

“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.”

“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you.

Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.”

“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.”

“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.”

You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack.

“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.”

“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking.

“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?”

“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.”

Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.

“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.”

“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders.

“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.”

She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes.

“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.”

She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.

“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.”

“Has he?” you asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.”

You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with.

Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal.

“I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.”

“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.”

“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.”

There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him.

Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?”

“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.”

You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still.

Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least.

It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up.

Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles.

Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.

Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad.

“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile.

“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in.

“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.”

You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.”

Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”

Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”

Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you.

You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”

No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress.

Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”

“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”

“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.”

“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”

“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”

Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you.

“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.”

You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you.

You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.

You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.”

“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”

Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne.

“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.”

Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?”

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”

She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”

“That is different,” you insisted.

“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.”

“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.”

“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.”

“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.”

“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.”

“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.”

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.”

“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”

“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”

Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you.

“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”

“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”

You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.

Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with.

It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf.

You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears.

You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your forehead.

You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan.

Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at.

“Miss Worthing.”

The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery.

“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”

“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”

“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.”

“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh.

“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.”

“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”

You turned away. “I can try.”

“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”

“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly.

“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.”

“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.”

Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.”

“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out.

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged.

You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”

“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.

Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become.

“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.”

“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.”

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing.

“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head.

“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.”

You nodded, and he did as well.

“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine.

“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.”

“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.”

You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into.

But he… he loved you.

He loved you just as you loved him.

“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.”

All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions.

“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.”

“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?”

“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance.

Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could.

Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”

“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst.

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.”

You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.”

Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.

“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it.

But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you.

“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”

“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket.

“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.

“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Just take it off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”

“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you.

“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”

“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver.

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access.

The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire.

You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way.

You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord.

“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.”

You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.”

You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you.

“Anthony— oh!”

The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied.

You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh.

“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin.

“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.”

“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?”

“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.”

“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.”

You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?”

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.”

“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?”

“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.”

“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.”

Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.”

“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”

Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.”

“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”

“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly.

You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.”

“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.”

“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.

“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.”

“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.”

Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”

“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head.

Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne.

“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”

“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?”

“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.”

Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual.

“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”

“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”

“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded.

“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”

“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.”

“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.”

Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words.

“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.”

You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion.

“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.”

Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears.

“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”

“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.”

“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you.

You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.

And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.

“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.”

You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.”

He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”

“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.”

“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.”

“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.”

His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?”

“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned.

Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either.

“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.”

“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.”

“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.”

Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?”

“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.”

“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.”

“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked.

She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.”

You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief.

“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.”

“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head.

Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.”

You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.”

“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.”

You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.”

“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.”

Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.

“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.”

You hummed in agreement. “As do I.”

You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him.

Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged.

Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured.

“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…”

“It is our secret.”

Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.”

“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured.

Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife.

The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.

And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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myfirstandlast · 2 years

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my depression is reaching unsalvageable levels and i don’t know what to do im quite scared and i don’t have anyone around me for protection or support

#today is my partner’s birthday and i can’t see them because of issues at home with work and my freedom depending on my parents’ feelings #i only have two possible job options and both of them trap me in my parents’ house and my town when i already have a slim to none chance of #moving out before anything work-related becomes concrete #i had violent violent dreams of my own death this morning and i’m fully apathetic to that as i have been for ages now #i need a therapist and i can’t find one that works with my insurance but if i manage to escape that will immediately become an out of pocket #cost i cannot afford if i even ever did find someone #and work. oh work. i don’t know what i’m doing. im too ashamed to show my face to anyone else in a thousand miles because im pathetic #people say that no one has it figured out but it’s not true because everyone’s at least attempting to make a way #i don’t have a clue about anything. im so stupid and my memory emptiness puts me in danger of myself #there’s so many things wrong so many things i can’t do anything about just because i’ve never controlled my life #i don’t want to live this way. i don’t want to live. it’s so hard finding anything meaningful and there’s nothing inside me to search for #im so scared for when my parents catch on to what’s on the wind. i don’t know what will happen to me #they won’t kick me out. leaving me to my own devices is the last thing they’ll let happen. they’ll just keep me here trapped and tormented #until i die of social isolation and suffocation inside the closet they stuffed me into #im not free. and if i was free i’d kill myself on accident #not a soul i’ve met so far has understood me the way i need and i’m too insufferable to draw anyone else close to me #i don’t know what to do with myself

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14thgalerie · 8 months

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the one

• pairing: theodore nott x riddle!reader

• now playing: hayloft by mother mother / you that i want by divine

• word count: 1.7k

• genre: angst, fluff, hint of smut

— short one that i kept thinking of.

Theo slumped in his chair, fatigue weighing heavily on him. The clock on the wall opposite him ticked relentlessly, unforgiving of his sleepless state. He had long abandoned any hope of finding any rest. He hadn’t been able to since that fateful night when everything felt right in his life.

His mind wouldn’t grant him solace. Each time his weary eyelids dared to meet from the pure exhaustion of the stress of OWLS, the ongoing war, his brain kept feeding him images of you. You, who kept haunting him from the very forefront of his mind.

The natural curve of your eyelashes. The way it fluttered against his cheeks as your lips made a blazing trail across his cheeks. Gentle whispers that drown him in sheer bliss still send shivers down his spine.

His tie lay abandoned, discarded beside him, next to the pile of papers swept aside in his frustration earlier. The long, emerald fabric had felt too suffocating amidst the overwhelming thoughts of you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you would also be writhing in bed, unable to fall asleep as he does. Would your dreams torment you with the brief time his hands tangled onto your hair, wayward? Does your dormant body spin cruel variations of that time, telling him tantalising tales of what could’ve occurred if only your insufferable blonde companion hadn’t so abruptly interrupted?

He had never loved you.

Not in the way you wanted.

This desire to fill the emptiness in your heart, to have somebody give you the time and day has obscured that truth. A part of you knew, from the very beginning, but this desperation forced you to turn yourself blind.

Draco was there, a constant presence in your life, a perfect match to have by your side. Born only 24 hours apart, and 10 years of your childhood spent solely with him.

In truth, you both used the other, a fact that you ignored. He relied on you for protection and status as your partner, while you clung to him to feel the fleeting sense of warmth. But the perpetual storm of reality always wearing you both down and, you were rapidly losing the strength to keep yourself afloat.

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the both of you as the year progressed and the inevitable return of your father neared. At first, you had both kept your feelings at bay, not wanting this to jeopardise your friendship altogether. But as time went on, it became a routine. Venom spit from raised voices, threats of abandonment and indifference to each other, reconciliation accompanied by hollow promises and sex.

“Are you a bloody fool? She is my best friend and yet again, Draco ‘can’t-keep-his-boxers-on’ Malfoy decided that didn’t matter!” You screamed in frustration, but it didn’t seem to matter when he didn’t even so much as falter at the volume.

“We aren’t even together, so why should it?” He carelessly replies, an air of indifference surrounding him.

“We aren’t? You truly are an insufferable git, I spent two years committing myself to you, and you never thought to mention that little detail before?” You scoffed, incredulous at the idea. It was foolish and outrageous, and not at all like how the man you know would think. Despite your differences with one another, he would still treat you with at least the respect you give to a friend, but now…

“Oh please! Don’t act as if your mind has not been completely filled with that mindless buffoon.”

“For Merlin’s sake, do not dare turn this on me…” You challenged him.

“Or what? Threaten to have your father kill me? Well, surprise, darling, I’m no stranger to that already.” He humorlessly chuckles. “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen that god-awful lovesick look on your face at the mere sight of his back. I am not the complete bloody fool you think I am.”

It hurt, truly, despite the fact that this started as a hilarious excuse of a relationship. You cared for Draco and to see him constantly destroy everything and everyone in his path of destruction left you unable to conjure up any more excuses for him.

“I am done, Draco. We can stop whatever awful pretentious act we put ourselves to and live on our own as you seem to hardly care for even yourself anymore these days.” You laugh, defeat etched on your face.

He never gave you the love that you sought, the kind that Theo had laid bare in complete display for you in just under seven minutes in that tiny closet.

“You came back to me.” He whispers, close enough for his lips to touch the corner of your lips but there’s just a stutter of breath. It makes you want to instinctively kneel and look up to him and beg religiously for mercy, the way he speaks.

“I did.” You reply. Unmoving, but your patience wears thin.

“Look at you,” He mutters, his hand tugging at your head by your hair, exposing your neck to him, and your knees nearly buckle at his breath that burns against your jaw. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re almost like putty in my hands already.”

“Shut it, Nott.” You quickly remark a decision you notably regret when you are left standing in the middle of the room all by yourself. The cold air from the ajar window left your skin tingling with an uncomfortable feeling akin to when Draco touched you in the past weeks.

You scoff, the sound more as if you were nearly pleading. “What are you doing?”

“You know I hate it when you act like a brat.” He inclined his head, and the movement leaves chills running through your spine for the action is almost similar to someone sinister. But weirdly, it makes you want to tease him even more.

“Oh please, Theo. I’m not blind, as if you don’t dream of it.” You slowly approach him, your fingers make a motion of dragging along the ends of the poster beds. “The way I see your eyes tremble when I contradict every single thing you say. I know you are depraved when your thoughts are only of my mouth…”

You hear a sharp intake of breath when you come near. “The way you would just love it if you could shut me up by having my lips wrapped around you. I know you, Theo.”

His lips twitch into a mirthless smile, he reaches almost mindlessly for your collar. His thumb barely touches the skin of your neck. “Yes, you do.”

His eyes are intense as they dart to your mouth. Your tongue unconsciously makes a sweep against your dry lips.

“I suppose Draco will show me exactly how.”

Taking a page of this man’s book is terrifying but you are tired of this game of tug that you keep playing.

“That would be wise. ”

He’s still looking at your lips.

“I’ll go then.” You try again, unwilling to make the move.

“Go on, you won’t hear a sound of protest from me.” But you remain standing in front of him, the will to move weak against the desire to have him.

“Really?”

“No.”

Theo grabs the back of your head, tangled his fingers in your hair, and made a mess of your mouth. With his lips attached to yours, you grab him by his shirt and the both of you kiss as if you were third years again. Your teeth clashed into each other time and time again and you couldn’t find it in you to slow down.

The need to kiss him, to feel what you’ve been thinking of for several nights on end. You push back at him, desperate to feel the same hunger and need in him, as he kisses you deeper and more profound than you ever thought possible.

The soft, selfish hands that you wished so badly to wipe clean off the bodies of other women move up from the bottom of your back to move you impossibly closer until you are almost one. His voice is ragged when he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva still connecting you.

He says against your cheek, “I love you. I’d die for you. Nobody can ever give you what I could make the pain go away like I could, not even that dense fuck who has a deeper sense of self-preservation than his parents.”

You swallow, agonised by the sudden slow pace that he moves. Not an ounce of energy dared to waste to defend your ex. “I will love you anywhere.”

You shiver at the raw and pure intensity that laced the declaration. You almost want to ask, to hear how. But you don’t think your mind could properly comprehend the ability to piece together the right words to ask.

His heart is pounding from beneath your fingers as you feel the pulse on his neck, almost leaping it out as if all it wants is for you to finally claim it as yours. Encase it in a glass case and put it on display for all else to see.

“In a bookstore, by the water fountain, the sidewalk, in the flames of your home.” His hands come down to your hips, his fingers digging in so harshly that by morning sunlight, purple will be painted on your skin but it feels so heavenly that you don’t push them away.

“I love you, not for the protection you provide and for your substantial looks, but for all the small things you do that bear your soul to me.”

Your hands meet around the back of his neck as he carries you by your thighs towards his bed. Pulling at the fabric that keeps him away from you.

“I’ll love you even as you tell me you hate me oranges. I love you enough that I will scour the face of this earth for a place where I can take you away from your nightmares.”

“I-“ He sighs into your lips, completely delighted by the intimacy that only his mind could conjure up in the lone nights. “I love you.”

You move for the buttons of his polo, while he moves to pull your shirt from you. A race that leaves you both fumbling when you feel his hand carving a path against your waist and up to your chest. You are left scalding, tiny bounces of light flickering in your eyes.

“I will be at your string’s end.”

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut

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4ngel-inc · 5 months

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BUNGO STRAY DOGS — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. ࿐

notes: mdni. fem reader. it's literally them getting handjobs & blowjobs that's the whole post. dialogue heavy & they're all a little submissive/needy. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

characters: dazai, chuuya, fyodor + reader.

DAZAI.

"f-fuck, your hands feel like heaven, sweetheart, i must be dreaming."

dazai's head rolled back onto the couch as he spread his legs further, running his fingers through your hair as his brows furrowed, eyes blissfully closed.

"hmm, not quite." you teased, licking up the length of his cock before returning to jerking him off—slow, sensual strokes before picking up the pace once more.

"you're gonna fucking kill me, darling. can't stop cumming. . . oh, make me cum again, please?"

you'd been at it for hours, the muscles in your arms and shoulders burning slightly from the work you'd been doing.

just as his dick began to swell in your hands, head becoming firmer and leaking heavily, a response to the delicious twisting motions you were tormenting him with—you pulled away, a pathetic whine leaving dazai's lips.

"w-why?" he looked pained as his cock slapped against his stomach, wet and cold from the loss of your touch.

"i think you've cum enough for one day, don't you?"

he smirked, seeming to enjoy your teasing, but pained by it nonetheless. you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him so fucked out again, completely wrapped around your finger.

"i-i don't think so? make me cum one more time?"

"hmm, not sure. . . weren't you flirting with the waitress at the café just earlier today? why would i reward you for being such a fucking womanizer?"

"you-ah- sound like fuckin' chuuya right now. why do you want to punish me?"

his eyes were glossy, cheeks flushed and bangs sticking to his forehead from the light sweat decorating his skin.

"because- you like it, don't you, sweetie?"

you had both hands on him, stroking hard and fast as he whimpered and whined and begged for you to let him cum.

"you gonna be good for me from now on, no more flirting with other women?"

"y-yeah, i mean yes. please, give it to me. . ."

"give you what, hm?"

"your mouth- your pussy, anything. . . fuck me, baby."

"hmm, fine."

you placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock before straddling him, his eyes entranced by your pretty face, never leaving yours as you slid down on him, settling at the base before rocking your hips slowly.

CHUUYA.

"might have to put my hands behind my back for this one, shit."

chuuya was leaning against the hard wall—the two of you hidden behind a corner no one else in the mafia seemed to ever stray to. you were hidden from the world, at least for the moment.

"hmm, love the way you taste, 'chu . . ." you teased his dick, tongue flicking over the pretty vein just below the hard head of his cock.

"ha- is that so?"

a cocky smile spread across his face as he admired how pretty you looked with his cock stuffed in your mouth—eyes filled with lust and desire as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up slightly as he moved his hips slowly, fucking your face much more gently than he wanted to.

"starting to think you want me to lose control, huh, baby?"

you pulled away, jerking him off quickly as you looked up at him, the sound of his wet cock sliding in your palm the only noise reverberating in the empty hallway.

one hand behind his back squeezed the wrist of his other, attempting to hold himself back from fucking your mouth hard and fast the way he really wanted to.

"fuck- just do it. make me cum. can't take it anymore. . ."

god—you were just so damn good to him—practically worshipping him each time you dropped to your knees. you'd always been that way, ready to please him at a single moment's notice.

"hm- what is it, 'chu? you wanna fuck my throat like i'm your little whore, don't you?"

"oh fuck yeah- gonna let me, angel?

"not today, you're gonna cum in my hand. . . wanna feel your cum, wanna taste you."

you felt his hot cum leaking over your fingers only a moment later, dripping down your wrist as he groaned, banging his fists against the stone wall behind him.

"fuck- i'm fucking your face when i get home. . . got it? then i want you face down, ass up."

you nodded in agreement as you licked up and down your wrist, not wasting a single drop of him as you savored the taste of chuuya that was spilled all over you.

"god- you're fucking amazing, baby. how'd i get so lucky?"

you smiled at that, pulling his pants back up and buckling the expensive silver buckle, tucking his shirt back in.

"i could say the same about you, handsome."

FYODOR.

"do you enjoy doing this to me, my love?"

"hmm, what do you think?"

he was leaning back against the shower wall, admiring you as you sucked his cock with delight, moaning each time you took him down your throat.

the water droplets trickling from his hair and rolling down his pale skin only made you want him more—he was gorgeous, you could never grow tired of looking at him.

"you enjoy the taste of me, is that it, darling?"

"i love it—love the way you taste. . ."

fyodor had a habit of never showing his emotions—and unfortunately, that was true when it came to sex, too. it seemed like he was enjoying it, but he was reacting more passively than you'd hoped—and you were trying your hardest to make sure he was entirely caught up in you, not a single thought on his mind but you.

"do you like it, baby?" you chanced, a flicker of insecurity in your eyes.

you slowed the movements of your hands on his shaft, a look of disappointment taking over your features as you loosened your grip on him.

he grabbed your hand and squeezed his cock with it, sliding it up and down his shaft once more.

"don't stop, my dear. . . your hand feels wonderful on me. use your mouth, too. . . oh yes, like that."

your heart lit up at that, taking him deeper, fingers running through the trimmed hair at the base of his cock, the softness against your skin turning you on even more.

you pulled back to admire the blissful expression on his face, finally seeing the emotion you were searching for.

"hmm, you know i love you, yes?" he stroked your jaw gently, changing the mood to something more serious.

"i know, fyodor. and i love you."

"good, my good girl. . . yes, keep sucking my cock. you want to please me, do you not?"

"more than anything," you nodded, his hands tangled in your hair again as he pressed you deeper, harder, and faster on his cock, bucking his hips into your mouth now.

"good, then i'll give you what you want. all of me."

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd smut #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n

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vipwinnie · 8 months

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Smoking Problem

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary : Theo has always been addicted to cigarettes but this time it was too much

Y/N's POV

I sat in Theo's bedroom with tears in my eyes as cigarette smoke filled the air. I watched my boyfriend, his face contorted with anger, smoking one cigarette after another. This habit had become a gap between us, an impassable wall. At the beginning of our relationship, I didn't think this would be a problem. But as time passed, I realized how cigarettes had taken over his life. I spoke to him repeatedly about the dangers to his health, to our relationship, but my words seemed to be lost in the smoke. Arguments had become commonplace. Every time I asked him to stop, he got defensive, arguing that he could smoke if he wanted. The tension between us continued to grow, until that fateful day. That day, the argument reached a level I never thought possible. My words were filled with frustration and disappointment, and his were laced with anger and resistance. The ring he had given me, a symbol of our love and our promises, had become a silent witness to our imminent destruction. In a fit of rage, I stood up, tears streaming down my cheeks, and threw the ring on the floor. The sound of metal against tile echoed through the room, marking the end of our love story. The silence that followed was deafening. But no sooner had the ring hit the ground than something unexpected happened. The boy suddenly stopped shouting and his face showed surprise. He looked down and saw the ring on the ground. The anger faded from his face, giving way to sadness and regret. He immediately picked up the ring, his hands trembling, and rushed over to give it back to me. He wanted to be forgiven, to repair his mistakes. But it was too late. I had already made my decision.

Theodore’s POV

I sat alone in my bedroom, my heart heavy and my mind tormented by the violent argument with my girlfriend. The days that followed were hell, a descent into the depths of sadness and distress. I found myself in a terrible state, unable to control my emotions. Tears flowed almost constantly, flooding my face as I remembered the harsh words we had thrown at each other. Every thought of her reminded me of our argument and the pain that came from it. Sleep was my worst enemy. I tossed and turned in my bed, unable to find rest. Images of our quarrel haunted my dreams, waking me up in sweat and leaving me exhausted throughout the day. The food no longer had any taste. My appetite was gone, replaced by a lump of anxiety in my throat that prevented me from eating anything. Every bite felt like cardboard in my mouth, useless and tasteless. I felt lost, like a part of me had been ripped away. I found it difficult to concentrate on my daily tasks, my mind continually being flooded with thoughts of regret and sorrow. My life seemed like a collection of painful memories and empty feelings. Yet, despite all this pain, I knew I was responsible for our argument. I had let anger and frustration take over, instead of communicating constructively. I blamed myself for letting our relationship reach such a breaking point. The days passed slowly, each minute seemed to last forever.

One evening, while I was lying on the floor crying, my friends Draco and Blaise came to find me in my room. Blaise said:"Man, are you still thinking about her? You've got to move on." Draco chimed in:"Yeah mate, moping around isn't helping. You need to get back out there." I sighed."I know guys, it's just...we were together for so long. I miss her." Blaise put his hand on my shoulder."I understand. But sitting here won't change anything. You've got to go talk to her, sort things out." Draco nodded."He's right. You won't know if you have a chance unless you try. The worst she can say is no, and at least then you'll have your answer." I thought about it. They were right, I had been moping around for long enough. I needed closure, one way or another. "Alright, I'm going to go look for her. Thanks for talking some sense into me guys."

I finally decided to make a sincere declaration of love to her, in the hope that she would forgive me. I took a deep breath and walked towards where we used to meet, a bench near the lake. When I saw her, my heart soared. She was there, sitting on the bench where we had shared so many happy moments. Her face was full of sadness, but I could still see the love she felt for me. I took a deep breath and approached her. "Y/N," I began with a shaky voice, "I'm so sorry for everything that happened between us. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I sincerely regret every harsh word that I could say. You are the most important person in my life, and I can't imagine my life without you." She looked at me, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I blame you, you know,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "But I love you so much, and I can't stay mad at you forever." I took a small box out of my pocket, containing the ring I had given him when we first started dating. "Y/N, I want you to know how much you mean to me. This ring symbolizes our love, and I want to give it back to you as a renewed promise. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to be the best boyfriend, to make you happy every day." Tears began to stream down her face as she took the box into her hands. She carefully opened it, revealing the sparkling ring inside. A radiant smile lit up her face, and she held out her hand so I could hand her the ring. “I forgive you,” she said softly, her eyes shining with happiness. "And I promise to give you another chance. I love you, and I want to be with you." I felt an immense relief wash over me as I slipped the ring onto her finger. I took his hand in mine and realized how lucky I was to have him in my life. We kissed, sealing our reconciliation and our renewed love.

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x you #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin #fanfiction

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farity · 1 year

Text

Longing

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary: A ward of Rhaenyra’s, you are present on that fateful night when Luke’s being a little shit.

Warnings: Smut.

“Luke, no.”

You whispered to your half-brother. He had been smirking and laughing at his uncle across the table, and the longer it went on, the more you could feel Aemond Targaryen’s anger radiate off of him.

You knew the story well, even though you hadn’t been around when it had happened. Your father, Ser Harwin Strong, had never known of your existence, but when your mother became gravely ill, she went to the Princess Rhaenyra, begging her to take you in. Rhaenyra could see Harwin’s eyes in yours, the same unruly hair, the same determined demeanor. She promised the dying woman to care for you and in exchange, you tutored her children.

You had found Rhaenyra to be kind, her husband Daemon to be unpredictable, and the children to be close. You also knew well what had happened just before you joined the household. The fight that culminated in Aemond losing an eye.

Once again, Luke made a small sound, amused at his own private joke, and again, you walked up to the table from where you stood a few feet away, kicked his chair and whispered. “Stop it.”

Too late.

Aemond struck the table with his fist and rose, and your heart sank.

“Final tribute,” he said. You saw Rhaenyra look up at him, and even though you didn’t yet know what else the prince would say, you felt nothing good would come of this.

* * * * *

“All of you, go to your chambers, go now.”

Rhaenyra sent her sons and Daemon’s daughters to their rooms. She didn’t oversee how you spent your free time, trusting you enough to let you manage your day as long as the children’s lessons took place as scheduled. You nodded at her and followed, catching up with Luke.

“You’re an idiot.”

He turned, ready to argue, but you kept going. “Why the hell would you provoke him like that, Luke? Do you never think beyond the next three seconds?”

You rushed past him and went into the chamber you’d been given, closing the door.

At least the dying king had already left before the evening went to shreds. Poor soul, he didn’t even realize most of the family problems were of his making. In wanting everyone to tolerate the simmering issues, he had only created a cauldron full of roiling hatred, and it was about to spill over.

Stupid, stupid Luke.

Restless, you paced from hearth to bed over and over until you realized you would never fall asleep like this. Some reading might help settle you down. You had finished the small volume you had brought with you, but you knew where the library was here.

You opened the door as quietly as you could, looking around before slipping out and taking the hallway that led to the library. There was no sound and you hoped everyone had settled down in their rooms.

In the library, several candles were lit on the main table, and you walked towards the closest bookcase to look at some of the titles.

“Here to apologize for the whelp?”

“Mother save me!” you slapped a hand to your mouth, your heart jumping into your throat.

Prince Aemond sat on the far corner, fading into the surrounding darkness. Now that your eyes had adjusted, you saw him more clearly, long silver hair, a book in his elegant fingers, long legs extended in front of him. Were he anyone else, you would be besotted. Were he not someone who hated your family, you would allow yourself improper thoughts. Were he not who he was, you would admit to yourself that the tall man in the dreams that tormented your nights was the same man sitting in the library with you.

“I doubt the Mother has the time for the likes of us, my lady.”

Heartbeat going back to normal, you grabbed a candle. “I am not a lady, as you well know, Prince Aemond. And no, I am not apologizing for Luke, although I did tell him he was an idiot.” You turned to examine the titles on the shelf, and to escape his stare. Mostly history books, it seemed.

“Are you seeking something in particular?”

“Travel stories, anything on Essos?” you turned to find he was not ten feel from you.

“Do you wish to see the world, then?” he asked, taking another step towards you.

You wanted to run, to lock yourself in your room and avoid talking to him. Avoid longing for those hands to be on you, for that hair to be wrapped around your fingers, for that mouth, usually so severe unless curved into a cruel smirk, to be on yours.

Steeling yourself, you met his gaze. “Someday, yes. I must make my own way sooner or later.” His eye bore into yours, the pale blue shimmering in the candlelight. He said nothing, and the seconds stretched between you.

You’d heard Daemon say once that silence was the best way to get someone else to speak. That people were unused to silence and rushed to fill in the void with careless words. That when he wanted to find out something, he simply waited for the other person to speak.

Aemond said nothing and you became more and more uncomfortable. You would not speak. You would not move. You would not look away from that intense scrutiny.

He took another step toward you.

You could smell the leather of his jacket, the soap used on his shirt, and some kind of earthy scent you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You bit down on the inside of your lip to force yourself to remain quiet, and you saw his usual smirk appear. He was so close. He reached up past you, never breaking eye contact with you, and brought down a book, holding it up for you to see.

You took it, not bothering to look at the title, curtsied, and as casually as you could manage, turned and walked out of the library. Every step seemed to take an eternity but you would not give him the satisfaction of hearing you run from him.

Then you heard it.

One step, two. Leaving the library.

Following you.

Forcing yourself to keep your steps slow and steady, you headed to your rooms. The steps behind you matched your pace, and your heartbeat picked up.

What was this torment? What was he doing?

Blessedly, you reached your rooms, opening the door with shaking hands. Stepping inside, you turned, finding yourself almost nose-to-nose with him.

“Lost your way, Prince Aemond?”

“I am exactly where I wish to be.” He watched you closely. “Well, maybe not exactly where I wish to be just yet.”

“Then I wish you luck in finding your way, good eve-”

He took your arm, pushing you inside and closing the door smoothly before taking your face in his hands. “I find myself craving your company, my lady.”

You couldn’t make yourself push him away. It was difficult enough to remain impassive when those hands you’d dreamed of were cradling your face so gently. “Your memory seems to be failing as well as your sense of direction, Your Highness, as I must repeat that I bear not the title of lady.”

His breath was warm on your lips as he pulled you closer. “And yet there are those who bear noble titles who are not entitled to them,” he mused, his eye roving over your mouth.

“I am sure I have no idea who you could possibly be referring to,” you replied, tired of the never-ending talk about your half brothers. In response, he smiled, almost gently, surprising you. Gentle was not a word you associated with Aemond. He was fire and fury wound tightly, ready to unleash, as he had earlier after Luke’s provocation. “Would you unhand me, I wish to go to bed.”

“A delightful suggestion.” He didn’t move. If anything, his fingertips had started to rub tiny circles high on your cheeks. You wondered if he was aware he was doing it.

“Alone.”

When he still didn’t remove his hands, you reached up to take them off your face, realizing too late that touching him was a dangerous idea. You placed your hands on top of his larger ones, and he immediately took your fingers in his, bringing them to his lips. You watched as that cruel mouth kissed the back of your fingers, taking each one in turn. “What is this, I wonder,” he murmured, switching to your other hand, “retribution? Punishment? I despise your brothers, their very existence is an insult to the realm, but the thought of you occupies my thoughts to distraction.”

“Prince Aemond, this is most improper,” you whispered, clinging to the last of your sanity. You had to stop this, stop him, and you nearly laughed at the thought of anyone, let alone you, stopping Aemond Targaryen.

“You know not the meaning of the word.”

“Please, Your Highness.”

He’d turned one of your hands over, and was now kissing the sensitive pads of your fingers. “Please . . . what?”

Each brush of his lips against your fingertips made fire spark inside you, and there was a heaviness low in your belly that was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Stop?” he asked, switching to the other hand, “or continue?”

“Please,” you managed, but could not make yourself say another word.

He stilled, and looked at you. “There are signs,” he said quietly, “when a woman’s desires are awakened. The breathing speeds up, the lips become redder,” he smirked, and brushed his thumb over your lower lip, “the skin warms and the pulse quickens.”

You became acutely aware of your breathing, of how overheated you felt, and summoned your will. “And what about men?”

His eyebrow rose at your question. “Much the same, except for one or two differences.” He brought your hand down until you felt your palm brush against something impossibly hard and warm.

You gasped, trying to pull your hand away, to no avail.

“Undeniable, hmm, the effect you have on me.” His eye was icy fire and you felt the smallest sliver of power begin to thread to you.

Foolish girl.

Ignoring your quickly disappearing sense of self-preservation, you flexed your fingertips, the tiniest movement, and felt him pulse against you. Aemond gasped, hips jerking against your hand.

More.

You squeezed gently, and this time he moaned, his free hand still cupping your face.

“Stop now, or I shall have my turn,” he whispered harshly. “Choose.”

You raised your chin, your eyes meeting his gaze, and slowly moved the backs of your fingers up and down his leather-covered length. Aemond made a low noise deep in his throat and pressed his forehead against yours. Before you could do it again, he swiftly grabbed your wrist and began walking you back toward the bed.

You stopped when you felt the edge of the bed hit the back of your legs. Still looking at him, you found the ties to his breeches, tugged on one.

“You will be my ruination.”

You grabbed the other tie. “Someone should be,” you replied, and tugged, letting the breeches become loose on his slim waist. Emboldened, you slipped your fingers into the waistband, feeling the muscles in his stomach tense at your touch. His skin was so warm and smooth, and you began to slide your palm up beneath the tunic he wore, fingertips tracing a map as you explored.

“The skin warms,” you murmured, and pressing your palm against his chest, felt the fast beating of his heart. “And the pulse quickens.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he pulled you in, mouth on yours, tongue demanding entrance. You gasped and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The taste of him was unexpectedly sweet, with some dark spice you could not name. He placed a knee on the bed, pulling you with him to lay down in the center.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me you want this. I will not have you unwilling.”

“I am not unwilling,” you managed, dizzy from his kiss. “I want, I-”

“Name it, and you shall have it.”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, “I don’t know what I’m asking for.”

“Then I shall spend all night finding out.”

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut

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secret-smut-sideblog · 3 months

Text

It Will Come Back

Astarion x F! Tav

(Girl Talk part 2)

18+ implied trauma, talks of death, drinking, possessiveness, feelings developing, vulnerability, blood drinking, sub/dom, gender play, grinding, strap on use, penetration (m!), prostate orgasm, tenderness

Their shared night has been tormenting him, after staking his claim he found himself needing to be near her. And after a night of drinking, seeing her with someone else, he had to have her again...

Part 1

He was mid wipe of his bloody mouth but was now frozen on the treeline, her voice shouting out into the night.

Though he knew the Underdark would have been much easier he was grateful that she had chosen the Mountain Pass. He already was able to find plentiful wildlife.

When Halsin had insisted that going underground was the better route he saw her body go rigid. Closing her eyes briefly. Taking a steadying breath out.

"I know the Underdark, its... lethal. We're taking the high ground." Her voice uncharacteristically stern. Tone clear, this was not a discussion.

Karlach had reached out to take her shoulder in a reassuring grip and pulled back at the last second, remembering her heat. A sadness in her eyes.

Now, in the darkness of camp she was bolted upright from her trance. "No!" Hand flying to her chest. Her shout breaking the air.

He stepped forward, uncertain.

But Karlach awoke, sitting up quickly. Coming to her side, kneeling next to her as close as possible without scorching.

"You're okay, love." She reassured. "Just a bad dream."

Tav looked up at her tearfully. Hand still pressed hard to her chest. Rubbing back and forth. "Oh Gods, they're starting again."

Shaking her head, looking deep in Karlach's eyes. As if the sight of her could erase whatever she woke from.

"I get those too, soldier. Some nightmares stick. Miserable things that they are." Reaching for her arm again, pulling away frustrated. "Gods I wish I could touch you."

Tav smiled, sitting up. Leaning towards her. "I want that too. We'll catch Dammon on the way, don't worry."

"You want to talk about your dream?" Karlach asked quietly.

"Not really, but it might help." She sighed.

He suddenly felt like he was intruding, staring down at them. Though he did want to console her he was hopeless at that kind of thing.

She froze for a second, turning her head.

"Ah, what did I tell you about trying to sneak up on me?" She smiled, catching him in her peripheral.

"Apologies, I was just coming back from hunting. I'll head back to my tent, but do carry on." He quipped. Chest tight.

"Actually, I dont mind you staying." She shrugged. "Believe it or not your company is very welcome."

He really considered it, but he had been avoiding her since that night and this was far too intimate.

"I appreciate that, but I'll have to decline. Do tell me if you need any hands on help though. Goodnight, sweet things."

His tent wasn't far and he was glad of it. Moving on light feet and closing the flap behind him. Sitting with his back against the entrance.

Their voices were faint but his keen ears were sharper. Their conversation picking back up after a moment.

"Gods I really thought they had gone away. But that fucking dream visitor..." The venom in her voice surprising him.

"It looked like her. My sister." Low now, he could barely pick it up. "Whatever that thing is it isnt afraid to play dirty."

"I didn't know you had a sister." Karlach's voice soft.

"A twin. We're identical." A tired sigh. "She's dead. Has been for, Gods, at least a decade. Even in my long life I dont know if it'll ever feel real."

"I'm so sorry, love." Karlach's voice low and mournful. Moving into a whisper.

He picked at the seam of his pants, suddenly feeling guilty. Given how self assured she was he hadn't even considered that she might have a troubled past. They all had their weight to bear, it seems.

Sitting still in the morning light he felt at peace. Or as close to peace as he could manage. The sun warming him through.

He soaked it in greedily, making up for 200 years of lost time. If he was a religious man he would pray to the morning god Lathandar, but the Gods weren't worth the praise.

"Morning, Star." She yawned, passing in front of his tent.

He squinted his eyes open, something he regretted immediately.

In the morning light her long red hair glowed, out of it's crown braid falling in cascades down her back. The grey ochre of her skin picking up hues of pink and a smattering of freckles he had never noticed before across her nose. Eyes dark and light in equal measure, the subtle ring of green in the white around her pupil contrasting sharply with her red hair.

She looked like an oil painting come to life.

Realizing he was staring he cast his eyes to the treeline.

Too late, she saw. Of course she did.

She smiled, coming to sit down next to him.

"Hungry?" She asked easily, holding up her wrist. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He stared at it, the soft flesh, the vein blue underneath. Her long fingers curled back elegantly.

"Before you've had your breakfast? How ravenous do you take me for?"

"Oh my heart, I am such a wilted flower I couldnt possibly stand such trials! Oh watch me wither away before your very eyes!" She held the back of her hand to her forehead, leaning back dramatically.

He smiled, despite himself. "I thought you nobility types were of a softer constitution." Taking her wrist gingerly in his fingers.

"Maybe on the surface. In the Underdark its kill or be killed. If you haven't had an assassination against you by the time you learn to walk you're considered a failure." She laughed, but he wasnt sure if she was exaggerating.

"Well I am a little peckish..." He mused.

He wasn't. He had a full meal last night. But the draw of her blood, being offered so easily. Gods she would be the second death of him.

He brushed his lips against the curve of her wrist, breathing in her scent. Apple, cayenne, vanilla. Gods he could get drunk on it.

He sank in as gentle as he could. Her blood bursting into his mouth. Trying to keep some sense of decorum as their companions milled around them. Resisting the urge to grip down and growl.

Vaguely aware of Shadowheart's disapproving sigh. "In front of my oatmeal?"

"Oh please, I know you'd want this too if you were sanguine." Tav smiled, unfazed. Sending her a sultry look.

He glanced up momentarily, seeing Shadowheart's blush at her flirting. Shooting him a quick cut with her eyes. Turning abruptly back to her bowl.

He felt a proud thrill in his chest. That's right, he was the one buried in her wrist. Suck it Shadowheart.

Tav tapped his forearm twice. "Going a little numb here, handsome."

He pulled off with a quiet gasp. "Apologies, I must have been more hungry that I realized." Lies. Lies upon lies.

Handsome, he turned that word over in his head. He wanted her to call him pretty.

Blinked in shock at his thoughts.

Gods this is why he had been avoiding her. That night had been haunting him. He had tried to push the intense pleasure she had milked out of him into the past. The way she had touched him, soft but commanding.

Her words playing on repeat in his mind in the late hours of the night.

"Such a good girl for me."

"You okay, Star?" Her voice low, squeezing his knee lightly.

He realized he hadn't released her wrist, his fingers still circled around her.

"Sorry darling, I'm a little off this morning." He leaned down and licked her wound closed.

Noticed her hand hadn't left his knee, her thumb rubbing back and forth gently. The touch lighting him, little trails of fire.

"Anything I could do to help?" Her voice going soft again.

Yes.

"No, but thank you for offering, sweet thing."

He patted her thigh good naturedly. "Now go get your breakfast. You've earned it."

"Well as long as I've earned it." She winked at him, rising gracefully to her feet. "See you later, beautiful."

Gods he wanted to kiss her. Hard.

Later in camp the mood was jovial. The day, though grueling, walking, always walking. Had turned out promising, closing in on the temple where the Creche is supposed to be.

Someone had opened a bottle of wine and the air was full of laughter and conversation.

Halsin had gotten out his lute and was strumming happily. Wyll stood and offered her his hand in a flourish. She smiled and took it graciously.

He led her in a light waltz and she followed easily, feet twisting and stepping with a practiced grace.

Astarion watched this from a fallen log and tried to hide the seethe in his face.

Why were they always all over her? Gods it felt like he turned his back and another suitor had stepped into place.

Didnt they know she was his?

He shook his head. He had too much wine. He was being ridiculous. He needed air.

Trudging away towards the water, feeling eyes on his back but he didn't care.

Kneeling down he splashed the water on his face. Get ahold of yourself.

Sitting back on his haunches he sighed, looking up at the night sky.

Her eyes slid over his vision, becoming two new stars.

"Brooding all by yourself?"

He couldn't stand it anymore, pulling her head down by the nape of her neck. Her soft mouth meeting his upside down.

She whimpered in surprise, then relaxed into him. Kissing him back in that soft exploring way he had craved.

He twisted under her, turning to face her. Pulling her down into his lap, wrapping his hand around the back of her head with a growl.

She straddled over him, already pulling at his camp shirt, taking it in a fist full. Moaning softly into his mouth. Allowing his tongue to push hot into her.

"My tent?" She whispered as she pulled away to get a breath, his mouth following, trying to get more.

He nodded, practically sprinting to feet. Taking her hand.

They took the long way around, sneaking into the warm cave of her temporary home.

Gods the air swam with her here. It was overwhelming.

She closed the flap behind them securely. Barely enough time and he was pulling at her clothes. Releasing her shirt from her leggings.

"Gods, Star. What brought this on?" She gasped as he laved his tongue up her neck. Pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it far in the corner.

"I cant stop thinking about it." He moaned, undoing the ties on her trousers with one hand. Falling to knees and yanking them down.

Looking up at her through his lashes. "Please touch me like that again."

She smiled, kneeling down to him. Gloriously naked, she reached up to the pins in her hair and released it. Falling behind her shoulders in a carmine wave. So beautiful it made his chest hurt.

He caught sight of a straight scar over her heart, ran his fingers softly over it.

She leaned forward, fingers stroking his cheek softly. Sliding her mouth against his warmly. "I've been thinking about it too."

Pulling his shirt free, angling over his shoulders. "You were so beautiful that night."

He moaned into her mouth as she came back to him. Already painfully aroused.

She pushed him back gently, trailing hot kisses along his neck. Untying his leathers with sure fingers. Pulling them down just far enough that his cock could spring free. Already dripping precum.

She leaned into him, sliding the hollow of her hip against his length. Rocking back and forth slowly. Leg straddled around his thigh he could feel her wetness. Her mouth on his neck so softly kissing and biting.

The pressure of her hip was so good. His head fell back, giving her more room to find him. Her fingers coming up to softly drag along his nipple. The pads teasing back and forth.

She began grinding down on him, her breath catching. Hip sliding harder into his cock.

"Please, more." He moaned.

She leaned back and spat a long trail of saliva on his cock. Pushing into him with her hip again. Looking deep in his eyes.

Oh Gods that almost sent him over.

She pinched and rolled his nipple in her hand. Wetting her fingers obscenely. Bringing them back down.

He whined, arching his chest. Pushing his hips up into her. So close.

"You know, I think your ready." She purred, her hands gone.

He opened his eyes to see her reaching for something. Leaving him to reach inside a chest.

She held up a harness with a faux cock attached. His eyes went wide.

Oh Gods, yes. He pulled off his leathers with haste.

He helped her get it on her hips, pulling down the buckles and straps. She wet it with the slick from her cunt, pumping down it.

"Come here to me." She whispered, sliding onto her back.

He straddled over her, heart racing.

Coming down to kiss at her chest, sliding one of her peaks into his mouth. Reveled in the little moan that left her.

She held the length steady for him as he slowly lowered down. His eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Take what you need. I want to see it." She murmured into his hair.

Sitting flush to her he felt the stretch inside him. Already so full. His body gripping down eagerly.

He began his ride, lifting his hips and rolling back down. His breath a strained gasping already. Gods it was heaven.

He looked down at her and saw how her hips rocked into him, gripping his thighs. Her face flushed, eyes half lidded.

"So lovely, taking my cock like that." She smiled. Angling her hips just hard enough to hit the spot that undid him.

He lurched forward, bracing himself next to her head. An indignant whine leaving him. He cant be this close already.

She held his hips in place and fucked up into him. His body already starting to shudder in warning. She had found his prostate again and was slamming into it over and over.

"Please, please," He mewled, for what he wasn't sure. Seeing stars already.

She craned her neck up and caught his nipple in her mouth. Suckling down viciously with a delighted hum.

His while body jolted and he screwed his eyes shut. Oh Gods he didn't know if he could take it.

His pelvis contracted like a fist, the first waves hitting him. His mouth fell open in a silent scream. A bone deep shuddering ripping through him. The waves pummeling him in tortuous rapture. He white knuckled around her thigh. It was all he could do not to cry out. His spend spilling hot onto her belly in gushes.

She pulled him into her chest with hushed assurances as he sobbed quietly. A sudden rush of emotion overcoming him. Gripping onto the back of her neck.

"You're okay, you're okay." She whispered into the curl of his hair. Her legs crossing behind his back, nuzzling down into his shoulder. "You did so good."

That made him sob harder, burying his face in her hair. Holding onto her like a life raft in a storm.

"You're safe, you're here."

Laying awake, staring at the roof of his tent his mind raced.

He could lie to himself, say it was just the wine, the long road, his hunger, that had driven him to her arms.

He was a good liar but not that good.

Sighing he turned on his side.

What a fool he was. Falling for his mark. A simple plan shattered into a million pieces at her feet.

She had entranced him body and soul.

He bit back a small smile, his dead heart racing in light and fear.

Tomorrow. He would tell her tomorrow.

Part 3

#if men weren't supposed to take it why did god give them a meow button #anyway that one anon this ones for you #astarion smut #astarion x tav

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theaceace · 6 months

Text

While Dream was hanging out in the fishbowl, a few dreams and nightmares that (like the rest of the Dreaming) think Hob would be the best thing to happen to Dream in a long time and also that Dream has abandoned them all, go and start bothering Hob in the waking world

But because they're dreams and nightmares, it kind of manifests as (usually awful) hallucinations. Specifically of Dream, a lot of the time (look they're trying to get their lord's attention by needling his human, yes it's stupid, no they don't have any better ideas)

And Hob, with the same attitude that's carried him through 600-odd years is like 'well I guess immortal life is already so goddamn weird this might as well happen' and just rolls with the fact that he is having hallucinations now. Learns some coping mechanisms, gets really good at not reacting to them even when horrible terrible things are happening

So when Dream finally does get back and goes to see Hob, he's just like oh cool I'm seeing things again, thought I got over that like ten years ago, ah well got a lecture to finish, better get on with it and barely even glances at Dream

Dream, of course, reacts to this like 🥺 like the sad wet cat he is, but also maybe this is a bad time. His friend is shaping young minds, he's very important and busy, Dream can come back later

So he pops back into Hob's life that evening when most people are, if not asleep, then at least at home. Hob's in the New Inn (of course) but it's quiet enough that Dream thinks maybe Hob will talk to him this time

Absolutely nothing. Like sitting across from a brick wall (and because Dream tends not to be noticed if he wants, and he very much doesn't want to be perceived while he begs forgiveness from a mortal, people's eyes just kind of skim over him, which isn't helping with Hob's assumption that he's a figment of Hob's imagination)

Dream is feeling very, very cold. None of the gentle things he's been saying to Hob have got anymore reaction than his hand tightening slightly around his marking pen (Hob is waiting for something horrible to happen, as it so often used to when he imagined his stranger, and is getting more and more tense the longer it doesn't)

Eventually they're the only ones left, even the bar staff have gone home because it's Hob's pub and he has a set of keys. So finally, FINALLY Hob looks up and is like 'oh, you're still here. We're still doing this, then' flatly

Dream: I thought I might - (he was going to say apologise) Hob: yes alright get on with it, the sooner you start the sooner you can piss off again (thinking this is a vision here to torment him) Dream: ...very well. I understand, and you need not worry, I shall not trouble you further. Only, let me ask, one final time: do you still wish to live? Hob: (well it's never gone down like this before, at least I'm getting some variety in my waking nightmares) what sort of bloody stupid question is that, obviously yes! Dream: I am. Pleased to hear that. Goodbye, Robert Gadling

So off he goes, leaving a bottle of wine that he pinched out of someone's dreams on the table. Hob scoffs, rolls his eyes and goes to bed

And panics the next day when one of the bar staff asks where the super fancy wine came from, and also who his friend was last night, didn't get a good look at him, but I don't think I've seen him before?

There Hob is. Screaming internally, because he's only gone and fucked it all up and now he's NEVER going to see his friend again

(obviously he does, probably because one of the nightmares finally confesses what they did to Lucienne, who tells Matthew, who speaks both fluent Dumb Human and Dramatic Fucker Dreamlord and manages to get the two of them in the same room long enough to talk it out)

#Dreamling #Hob Gadling #dream of the endless #On today's episode of 'fics I have so vividly in my head and Simply Cannot Put To Paper'#Have some angst. On the house

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luna-writes-stuff · 7 months

Text

I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing, Steve Harrington

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, fluff

Word count: 3494

Tw: As a fellow introvert it pains me to tell you you are now going to prom. Sorry. There’s an f-bomb in here. Light cursing?? Idk have you even watched Stranger Things?

Summary: Steve was convinced he was only able to fall in love once, and that one love was Nancy Wheeler. And when all of that fell apart, he met you. He couldn’t explain how or why, but you were simply it for him. Never before had he been anxious to ask a girl out, so why were you so different? And how come Dustin knows more about flirting than he does?

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping. While you're far away and dreaming.”

Steve has only been in love once - Nancy Wheeler. He had told himself this over and over again. He knew what it felt like, he knew what it was like. He knew what the difference was between liking and loving. And the only one he had truly loved was Nancy Wheeler. So, when she started dating Jonathan, his heart crumbled into a million little pieces. For once, he finally understood the girls at his high school who would spend their break wallowing away in bathrooms.

After that, he wouldn’t dare even look at others in a specific way. He was convinced he could only love one person his entire life. He’d never find something real after that. It was a terrifying melodramatic thought in his head that simply refused to leave.

He was at his lowest when he met you.

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

How you had never caught his eyes, he couldn’t quite believe. For years, you had been in the same English class. Hell, you used to sit directly next to him for a handful of months. He was so blindly and foolishly in love with Nancy, he refused to see anything else for him out there. And where he had once blamed it on loyalty and fidelity, he could now only consider himself as stupid.

You were forced to work on a project together in your senior year, Steve’s final year of torment. He was too late to pair with familiar faces, and was left with the person behind him - you. A lucky coincidence.

It wasn’t anything special at first. You were simply a classmate. But when he failed to show up on agreed study times, or refused to form a normal conversation with you, you showed up at his doorstep. You barely even know him, yet you took the effort to seek him out - initially in pure anger, as this was supposed to be your grade as well, and he was screwing it up, but you afterwards considered this action to have been out of genuine caring. It wouldn’t take an expert to recognize that he had not been true to his prior years persona.

Reluctantly, he had allowed you in, trying to procrastinate as much as he could. You spent the evening properly introducing yourself. You talked about family, work, school, interests, and friends that would later appear to be somewhat mutual (Steve didn’t necessarily consider Jonathan his friend, but he at least knew him on certain terms.) Where you first appeared to be the stuck-up good grades student, he found that you were actually quite interesting to talk with. Even if your interests weren’t always related, he found himself relaxing around you.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

It took two weeks for him to shift slightly around you. He’d grown more comfortable, and had actually tried to put in some effort in your project. After the study dates, he’d treat you to a drink at a nearby snackbar on his way to your home. During classes - if they were shared -, he started seeking you out more. Sometimes, though rare, he’d sit at your table at lunch, ranting about a teacher or a test he just had.

It took two more weeks before he started changing again. To him, it came out of nothing. You had been at his place, discussing what you would be doing the final three weeks of your project, your voice passionate as you explained your plan, your hands following along with your speech enthusiastically. Then, it all clicked for him. There was no special thing you did that made it happen: no faces too nearby, no flirty laugh, no hesitant hug, no brief kiss on his cheek - it was simply you speaking about something you were excited about. And his heart skipped a beat at it. The feeling you’d get just before you go down a rollercoaster, or when your chair almost falls backwards - but then in a good way.

The last time he felt that was when Nancy winked at him from across the room. And that was last year. He knew the feeling, and it did not take him longer than a second to figure out what it was. He didn’t dare to say it, though. He might say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing and something about that made him so scared. He’d never felt anxious to walk up to someone and simply confess how he felt. It came easy to him.

Not after that one stupid rant you did.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wouldn’t speak of it to anyone. He hadn’t even told himself out loud yet. He told himself that if he’d speak it, it might disappear, or bring him bad luck. He cursed himself afterwards and scolded his mind for suddenly picking up superstition.

He’d try so badly to behave somewhat normal around you, and not as if his heart was beating way too quickly whenever you spoke his name or nudged his shoulder with your pen. In his eyes, he was doing a great job at it. He didn’t stutter once, nor did he forget his words. He didn’t sweat, didn’t act on emotion. He was completely nailing this.

He never noticed his staring. You had.

“Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating. And I'm wondering what you're dreaming. Wondering if it's me you're seeing.”

You had noticed it only a day after Steve’s realisation. Sure, he had shown interest in you, but they never included prolonged eye contact, nor the feeling of being watched over during classes. It was uncomfortable when it first started, but when he failed to do anything about the staring in a negative sense, you figured his mind had just been too preoccupied with other things and let it slide.

But every time you’d walk the halls, you swear Steve kept his eyes on you even after you had greeted him at the lockers. During breaks, he would constantly be throwing you looks, and you had to pretend to look at something else to not be creepy as well. He started walking you to your car, helping you carry school books, and saving you lunch.

You might not have been the smartest, but you weren’t oblivious. He didn’t do this for his other friends - which he had known way longer than he had known you. He wouldn’t even walk his ‘children’ friends outside school. And you might have understood him if he had done so. But he didn’t. Not with anyone except you.

But maybe you were thinking too much of it.

“Then I kiss your eyes And thank God we're together. And I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever. Forever and ever.”

“Steve,” Dustin urged. “Earth to Steve.” The boy in question only grunted in annoyance, reluctantly tearing his eyes from you and your friend group. “Dude, this is almost becoming creepy.” Dustin continued. “Just talk to her. You’re friends, right?” “Yes, Dustin,” Steve groaned. “We’re friends.” An aloud confirmation. To himself and to Dustin. You were just friends, sure.

“Friends don’t really stare at each other the entire time.” Rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head at the boy, giving him a pointed look. “I’m not looking at her the entire time.” “Maybe not, but when you’re not looking, she is.” That made his head spin around too fast, his eyes briefly meeting yours before they cast back to your friends.

“That’s totally normal,” Dustin emphasised. “Me and Mike make love-sick eyes at each other the entire time.” “Will you shut it?” Steve hissed, his face warm as he tried to look at the wall behind you. “I would, but all of this staring is making me sick.” “No one asked you to look.” “It’s impossible not to.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“She’s totally into you, you know that right?” Dustin prodded. “Shut up.” “No, I’m serious, man. She’s my babysitter and she talks about you all the time.” He exaggerated, a notion Steve was quick to catch onto, giving the younger boy an accusing look. “Okay, so, maybe I am the one who brings you up, but she is the one who starts laughing and talking all about how funny you are.” He defended, holding his hands up as he shrugged. And with those words, Steve was left speechless for just a short second.

“If you ask her out to prom, I can guarantee you, she’ll say yes.” Dustin hinted. “You’ll have the perfect ambiance - lights, music, clothes, and amazing company.” “Dude, you’re twelve.” Steve deadpanned, yet curiously thinking Dustin’s offer over. “I’m thirteen.” “Big difference.”

“If this is what growing up is like, I don’t want any part of it.” “No,” Steve finally agreed. “Trust me; you don’t.”

“Dude, you’re the king of Hawkins High,” Dustin tried to convince. “If you can’t ask a girl out, what are my chances?” Steve formed his lips in a thin line upon the words, shrugging aimlessly. Dustin’s hands found Steve’s biceps, clutching them tightly, taking him by surprise. “Give me hope, Steve.”

“Geez, man,” Steve muttered confused. “It’s not the end of the world.” “You’re right: it isn’t.” Dustin agreed, a sudden smile on his face. “So, talk to her.” Then, he turned the older boy around, forcing his eyes to suddenly fall on yours. Again, his face heated up at the contact, his eyes back on the wall behind you before yours could fall to the floor in a flustered mess.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wanted to back away, let the weird thirteen-year-old he met last year down and swallow his pride to the depth of his stomach, but one of your friends had already noticed him, sparing him a wave before taking off with the rest of the group, leaving only you there. If he couldn’t even ask you when you were alone, what dignity did he have left?

And thus, with courage he did not know he had to muster up, he walked towards you, his heart wildly beating, screaming at him to turn around and hide while he still could. Stupid. That never happened before. It was scary - he hated it. Weak for a talk.

“You didn’t mention a little brother,” You began, trying to start a conversation as your eyes fell on Dustin, who had - not so casually - started paying a lot of attention to his shoes. Chuckling awkwardly, Steve shook his head. “No, he’s not my brother.” “Cousin?” “Weird kid that started following me around last year.” A quiet ‘ah’ of understanding escaped you as you nodded hesitantly. “Must have been quite the conversation you were having.” “You really don't want to know.” You laughed at this.

Stupid. Stupid heart skipping that stupid beat at your stupid smile.

“I don't wanna miss one smile. And I don't wanna miss one kiss. And I just wanna be with you Right here with you, just like this.”

Then, the silence came. You hadn’t shared those yet. You always had a lot to say, and if not, he would. But this was an uncomfortable silence. Granted, he had known you for five weeks, but he did not like this one bit. He felt as if he had gotten to know you better in five weeks than he had his other friends in four years. He didn’t even know if Tommy had a brother or a sister - or maybe it was both. He knew your entire family, though.

Dustin was right. That wasn’t normal for friends. Or at least - not for his versions of friends. He was interested in them, but not as much as he was in you. And that wasn’t just because you were generally pleasing to look at. It was important to him, though.

“Um, pretty,” Steve mumbled, not even realising what he had said. An unconscious notion of himself as he tried to fill the silence. It even startled him, his heart sinking slightly as he tried to cover it up. “Prom.”

Yes, there was no going back now.

“And I just wanna hold you close. I feel your heart so close to mine. And just stay here in this moment For all the rest of time.”

“Prom.” You nodded at him as he repeated his words. “Next month.” You reminded him, thinking he didn’t know the date. “Right, yes,” Steve agreed, grateful you hadn’t taken up his slip. “Do you plan on going?” You thought of it for a while. In truth, you had meant to be going with a friend, but she cancelled last week, claiming she’d rather take another friend who would be in town that week. You understood her - you might have done the same. But you weren’t going to show up to prom alone. Besides, staying home wouldn’t be the worst idea. Cinemas would likely be very empty that night. You might spend your evening there.

“I don’t think so.” You finally settled on. “Not?” “I was gonna go with a friend, but she cancelled.” “That’s lame, I’m sorry.” Steve tried to offer in sympathy, but you shook him off. “No, I don’t blame her. One of her long-distance friends will be in town, and she’d rather take her.” “Still,” Steve continued. “That must have sucked.” You lightly shook your head at him, a tiny grin on your face. “Yes, but it’s okay. I don’t hate her for it.”

Another silence. This time due to both of you thinking over your words. Stupid. He never had to do that before.

“Why?” You prodded playfully. “Planning to ask me yourself, Harrington?”

Yet again, his heart skipped a beat. Stupid.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. Don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“Only out of pity.” He covered up quickly, his eyes not deviating from yours once. “I’m the worst pity party.” You joked, to which he faintly found himself sparing a laugh. “I’d be happy to join it.” “Yeah, you would.” You replied sarcastically, nodding your head in humour.

A third beat of silence. Now, the pounding in his heart was begging for some action. One more silence and he might spontaneously combust. “What if I was?” He mustered out, his eyes falling back on the wall behind you. Looking behind you to see what he was looking at, you frowned lightly, forcing your eyes back to his face. “What if you were what?” “Planning to ask you to prom?” A deep falling of his heart. Stupid.

“I’d ask why you didn’t ask future prom queen Heather.” You replied after a handful of seconds, not sure how to respond to him. You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t copying his exact movements. “Because she’s fake.” He stated easily, causing you to gasp lightly, looking around to check if others were around. “Steve,” You scolded. “I’m serious,” He disclosed honestly. “She always pretends to feel bad for others, but she’s as much of a bully as she is narcissistic.”

You could join him and rant about this girl, but in truth, you barely even knew her. Part of it made you feel guilty. Thankfully, Steve caught on quickly: “Besides, I already rejected her.”

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do. I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

Mouth slacked open, you looked at him in surprise. Again, you didn’t really know the girl, but you knew her enough to be aware of her reputation. Or, more importantly, her looks. “You rejected Heather?” You asked confused, a feather light feeling entering your stomach. “Yeah, well, I’m not really one for dances, but I could make an exception.” Steve defended, trying to play it off cool. His exterior was doing a great job at it. Inside, whatsoever, it was pure rampage. His brain was scavenging for the right words or actions. He truly didn’t want to screw this up, but he had never felt this anxious around a person. If this would not be the moment, he didn’t know if it would ever come again.

Luckily, you did not notice the turmoil, and responded to his words before he could make a fool out of himself. “You’d make an exception for your study buddy?” You tested, still unsure whether he was joking or not. If he was, it was a cruel one. “You need those grades, don’t you?” “No.” He denied quickly, almost instantly. “I’d make an exception for a good friend. And all I need is just a little bit of your time.” “For what?” You asked, raising your eyebrows slightly.

Holding you, you idiot. Keeping you close, not tearing my eyes from you if I can help it. Maybe a little kiss here and there, light touches on your waist, repressing those stupid beats of my heart.

Instead, what came out was: “Dancing, duh.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“I don’t have an outfit.” You avoided, slightly taken aback by his cool behaviour. Sure, you had learned his humour, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to show just a little emotion and a positive response to your slightly high hopes. Then, he said something that truly took you aback.

“Wear this. You look beautiful in this too.” It was out before he could even stop it. He hadn’t even realised his brain had been forming these words. They just stumbled out. And when you went slack at them, he wanted nothing more than to dig his head into the nearest wall. “I’m-“ He tried to salvage, desperately stumbling over his words.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was exactly what he had been avoiding all this time and now his speech was failing him.

“I’m sorry, that was-“ No words managed to follow up that trail of thought, leaving you there, still wide-eyed. “Fuck.” He silently mumbled to himself, before just running with what he had slipped out. “You look perfect just like this.”

“Thank you.” You nearly whispered, your heart surely in your throat now. This was precisely what you wanted to hear, so why did you not know how to respond to it.

“Yeah, no problem.” Steve sighed helplessly.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“So, prom? With me?” He swallowed his dignity, saying his words as he had always meant them. No de-tours now. And at that, your courage began to build up again. “As friends?” You tested. “Maybe,” Steve answered. “Or, maybe, as a date.” A sigh of relief swept through you, the action not going unnoticed by Steve. He did not mention it however.

“It’ll be a hell of a first date.” You muttered, your happiness doing its best containing itself. “It doesn’t have to be.” Steve dismissed. Your hopes fell to the floor at that, afraid you had gotten ahead of yourself. Hadn’t he said it aloud? Hadn’t he proposed it had been a date?

“I heard the cinema is playing Gremlins tonight.” He interrupted your train of thought, a slight smile on his face. You copied it nearly immediately, more relief flooding your senses. And then, a sudden burst of confidence: “You know the purpose of the cinema is watching movies, right? Not me.” Hissing and nodding at your hint, his shoulders fell slightly. “Am I that creepy?” “At first, yes,” You admit honestly. “But it’s cute.”

Cute. Stupid.

“What time?” Having remembered the exact time for this perfect scenario, Steve perked up slightly. “Eight.” “Pick me up at seven-thirty,” You proposed. “You know where I live.” Then, you turned around, ready to head to your next classes. You spared him a light wave, before moving towards the halls. His eyes followed you until you were out of sight.

That stupid smile. Those stupid eyes. Your stupid voice. Your stupid humour.

You were going to be the death of him.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

#november writings 2023 #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #joe keery

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emyluwinter · 1 month

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What will happen to a teenager who finds himself in a completely strange world, without support, without knowledge, without elders or guardians, without friends or help? What happens if this kind heart gives resonance to the hungry other hearts around? Without the editorial office, I feel very exhausted, and the pain began to bother me again. Therefore, I allow myself to write imperfectly.

These are the little headcannons that came to my mind by accident.

For the first few weeks after Riddle's Overblot, Cater and Trey secretly took two more students outside their dorm under their invisible wings. After all, with their appearance there have been very big changes, certainly not in the most pleasant way. But it has moved for the better.

Ace and Deuce talked about their living conditions, and they themselves witnessed being in hidden horror at the very sight of this piece of territory in college. To put it mildly, Trey and Сater decided that let these two be often in front of their eyes, to look after their younger students. than breathing dust and mold, blown by all the draughts and winds in your dorm.

Ace mentioned several times that Grimm has an endless battery of energy, but their Prefect looks like an exhausted zombie in the morning. They just couldn't rest physically or mentally. The time for rest was ruthlessly devoured by studies, repairs, attempts at adaptation and rehabilitation. Add to this endless ridiculous and insane rumors, disrespectful or disdainful behavior on the part of other students. The list could be continued until the end of the shining of the stars in the sky. Or Yuu was tormented by insomnia, which was quite a logical consequence and reaction of their psyche and body to so much stress and frayed nerves Or they couldn't afford the luxury of a "good sleep"

Trey has noticed many times how Yuu takes a quiet, inconspicuous place in the garden or in the maze of corridors of their dorm just to sleep. A quiet, clean place, even without a bed, even sitting on the floor. One Seven knows how they sleep in such an uncomfortable place, but compared to their accommodation it was a five-star hotel.

Cater went the other way, gently woke up the "mouse dormouse" if it found them in the most unsuitable place to sleep, and carefully laid them somewhere on a sofa or in an armchair away from other people's eyes and faces. Covering them with a warm blanket so that they can finally get warm, give them a pillow and see with emotion how they hug her. It's like they're someone's protective shell and the pillow is their secret treasure. In truth, he was visited by the thought that this was dozing with this "exhausted" younger of his….Was it comforting?Was it soothing? It was as if he wanted to heal his wounds in his heart when he was not given a place for himself and his thoughts. As if he wanted to hide that little boy inside himself. A quiet sniffling at their side, the slow movement of their chest when breathing. A slight tugging of their eyelashes or fingertips. What are they dreaming about? Of course, it's not good to stare, but Cater caught itself thinking that for the first time in a long time, it also wants to just take a nap in silence. Without acting, roles, smiles, masks. A serene, quiet slumber.

Yes, that's what he suddenly wanted to do for himself for the first time in a long time. And not someone else chose for him. A little sleep was a really good solution. For some reason, Diamond felt much better. Maybe it was the fact that there was some trust in the lost child. Or maybe he really just wanted to sleep in the company. During these moments, he did not touch his phone, neither before nor after.

Riddle once caught the two of them having such a sleep session. And didn't dare to wake them up. After all that had happened, an unpleasant voice in his head kept saying that this was the least his dorm could offer to atone for all the guilt towards Yuu and Grimm.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #twst mc #disney twisted wonderland #twsited wonderland #twst cater #twst thoughts

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scarlovebot · 11 months

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DIRTY HANDS

Natasha romanoff x female reader

Summary: Natasha is taken back by your dominant attitude

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

as the moonlight travels, a welcoming soft glow shimmers through the slight ajar curtains.

Beams of light pour into the almost silent bedroom, painting golden waterfalls across your Pictionary walls.

As the sunlight beams into your dazed eyes, squinting in satisfaction as the day has begun. With a slight groan escaping your lips, you unlace your hands turning swiftly to face the person who made everyday worth it.

you gaze upon the sleeping women in front of you, setting yourself the task of analysing every inch of her beauty.

the way her messy red hair framed her sharp jawline perfectly, making you melt right there and then.

Running your fingertips over the sight on display, tangling each finger into her locks, the softness reminding you of her tenderness.

her rough and bruised lips telling a thousand stories, some of which your yet to have heard. The assassin snored softly, whimpers eluded only leaving your mind to wonder, what she was dreaming about.

Natasha was a women who knew of her power, making those in her presence scramble to leave as quickly as possible.

But not you

Within the first couple encounters between the two of you, it’s was undeniable that the widow was meant to come into your life.

deep down inside, under all those battered layers you could see just how much she wanted to be loved. And in that moment you made a vow to be her constant, conveying the intimacy she craved and adoration all the time.

falling out of your daze, meeting with glistening emerald eyes which could easily be lost in.

Your hands found warmth, caressing her rosy cheeks then moving upwards to wipe away the sleep which littered around her sparkling globes.

the women hummed in a low tone, her voice still croaky from slumber

“are those hands cleans детка?” she questions with a risen eyebrow

Great, our soft moment was ruined with her dirty thoughts.

Your mouth agape

“Seriously Natasha, you’re worried about the cleanliness of my hands when you know exactly where they have been” proceeding to roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

The women had no right to make such a comment, she’s the one who’s draped over the bed in little to no clothing. At least you had the decency to cover up, even if it was a pair of Natasha’s underwear.

Although you knew she didn’t mean to be snarky, you decided to have your fun.

Using your dirty hands to roll over and push away from Natasha, finding a seat on the edge of the bed, only to leave her eyes staring at your naked back.

With a huff and puff, you placed both hands either side of the soft cotton sheets, in line with your hips with the intention of leaving the bed to further on the day.

before even testing out your leg strength you were violently pulled back down, your head nestling into Natasha’s torso.

A loud squeal escaped, followed by childlike giggles

you really couldn’t hold it together for 5 minutes.

“I’m sorry, I love your filthy hands” she spoke

Biting your lip, you question “is that so? Then why don’t you get your hands this filthy?” pointing at the women’s bare chest emphasising the fact that your always the one to end up with the dirty mittens.

Natasha’s eyes widen with torment, she secretly loved it when you’d become dominant. Even if it was for a short moment of time.

Her soft hands trail around your chest, she took this time to think about the situation: was it really her turn to quite literally get on her hands and knees at your beg and call?

At this point you felt pleasure with her softest movements, you liked to treat Natasha as a princess so realistically, you don’t mind doing what she wants.

The women decided with an answer, moved with quick intentions.

grasping your muscular shoulders and pinning you underneath her in one motion.

She was a women of many talents

“тигр, I assure you that my hands will need a thorough wash after this…”

The remaining hours of your day were left locked away in the bedroom, and from that point onwards Natasha vowed to always clean her hands.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow

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honeybeefae · 1 year

Text

Perfection (Azriel x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: BODY WORSHIP

Summary// After a month of tormenting yourself about your body, you finally decide to confess to your mate what you are feeling. You expected him to roll his eyes or dismiss it as silly, but you should know the Spymaster will always surprise you.

(A long time coming but I hope you guys enjoy this. It’s the comfort I need, and I hope you all know how beautiful you all are, no matter what that silly voice says to you.)

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, body worship, body insecurities, soft sex, dirty talk, pet names, multiple orgasms

It was early in the afternoon as you chatted with Feyre, leaning against the counter and mindlessly washing a cup. Both of you had just finished with training, and afterward, you had brought up a topic that had been giving you some grief, hoping your friend could give some insight into the situation.

“What are you talking about?! You are stunning, Y/N. I would kill to have the body you do!” Feyre said, looking at you as if you had grown two heads. “Has someone said something to you? Did Azriel?”

“No, no!” You almost shouted, shaking your head vehemently. “Azriel seems…happy. A little distant but he’s got stuff he’s been busy with. It’s just a me thing, ya know?”

She put down a towel and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing them while giving you a look of sympathy. “I understand, I do. We can all be insecure about things but what I find most hopeful is talking about it, especially with my mate.”

You looked away and sighed, chewing your lower lip. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him about your issues, but you were worried that if you brought it up, maybe he would see what you saw. Azriel had never given you any indication he didn’t love your body the way it was so you already felt like you were overreacting, but you couldn’t help it. You hated looking in the mirror nowadays.

“Y/N,” Feyre called softly, making you look back at her. “Talk to him about it later tonight, okay? Even if it’s just a small sentence, at least get the conversation going.”

Her words settle in your mind for a minute before you nod slowly and pull her into a hug. As the two of you got back to work, you went through a game plan for tonight. Azriel was sure to be tired after his mission, but hopefully, he would have enough time to listen to your qualms and ease your mind. If only a little.

You were in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror when you heard the door to your bedroom unlock. It was late, most everyone already in bed, but you had stayed up to wait for your mate. He quietly walked into the room and began to strip off his clothes, noticing the light coming from the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” He whispered quietly, slowly pushing the door open to peek in. You turned and gave him a small smile, nodding for him to come in. “Why are you still awake? I thought you would have been asleep by now.”

“I had something I wanted to talk to you about.” You confessed, playing with the material of your thin nightgown. “It’s something that’s been bugging me for a while…”

Azriel’s face went from confused to concerned in an instant, not even bothering to remove the bottom half of his outfit as he stepped further inside. “What is it?” He asked, his voice lower than before. “Has something happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” You assured, gazing up at him. He was always so protective of you, ready to defend your honor or cut down anyone who would even think to harm you. It was the kind of devotion most people could only dream of having.

He waited for you to elaborate, but the words were stuck in your throat, refusing to budge. The courage you had been feeling was fizzling now that you had to articulate your worry and the longer you stood there, the shorter his patience grew.

“Y/N?” He prodded, eyebrows drawn together tightly.

You sighed and turned to face the mirror again, your eyes immediately picking out everything that you thought was wrong or ugly. It was causing that nasty voice in your head to grow louder, and you suddenly wanted to run and hide under your covers, to shield yourself from everyone.

Large, warm hands ran down both of your arms tenderly. He appeared behind you in the mirror, his wings slightly lowered, as he watched you tear yourself apart. Azriel knew exactly what the look meant in your eyes, could feel your pain through the bond as if it was his own. It reminded him of the way he saw himself and his scars.

“Oh angel,” He murmured, rubbing small patterns into your skin. “Is that why you’ve been hiding away?”

A nod was all you could muster as you attempted to hold back tears. You didn’t know how he figured it out so quickly. Perhaps you were right about what you saw, and he was just waiting for you to say something first. You felt the humiliation rising in your stomach from just how pitiful you were at the moment.

But your mate was having none of that. Azriel turned you around and tilted your head up to look at him, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as the soft candlelight sparkled on the unshed tears in your eyes. He couldn’t understand how someone like you, who shone brighter than the stars above, could ever doubt such beauty.

It pained him that you could even question it.

“I know what it’s like to hate things about yourself, Y/N.” Azriel swallowed, glancing at the scars on his hands before going back to you. “More than most.”

Both of your hands immediately went up to cover his own, stroking them softly as you had done hundreds of other times in the past. The corner of his lips tugged into a small smile at the sweet gesture.

“But trust me when I tell you that I have never seen someone as enchantingly beautiful as you.” He said earnestly, brushing away the tear that was falling. “The way your hair shines in both the sun and moon, the way your nose scrunches in your sleep, I fall more in love with you every day. My entire life…I have never known such happiness or yearning until you showed up.”

His words were wrapping around your heart like a comforting blanket, shielding you from the doubt that had been plaguing you. It made you want to weep from just the pure love that was flowing between the bond.

“I can’t go into your mind and throw these thoughts away but, if you let me,” Azriel whispered while dipping his head down until your lips were a hairsbreadth away from each other. “I want to show you just how beautiful you are.”

You knew if you said no that he would understand, that he would cuddle you for the rest of the night and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until the sun rose. He would only do what you were comfortable with, but while a small part of you wanted to hide away again, you wanted to get past this. You were halfway there, and with the look in his eyes, you couldn’t resist him.

“Please.” You swallowed, squeezing his hands that were still holding your face. “Show me.”

He closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you gently, as if you would break underneath his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed while you pressed closer into his body, moving your hands to wrap around his neck.

The voices in your head were trying to dig into you, but it was like Azriel’s mere presence was shielding you from them, making you only able to focus on the taste and feel of him.

“I love you so much.” He confessed against your lips, his hands running down your body slowly. You gasped when you were suddenly lifted into the air, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively. “You have no idea how long I waited for you, Y/N.”

Azriel pushed the door open with his foot as he led you to the bedroom. The large windows were still open, white curtains billowing in the wind as the stars and moon shone brighter than you had ever seen. He kissed you once more before gingerly laying you on the bed.

The air was growing thicker by the second as he crawled over top of you. You raised one of your hands to cup his face, but he stopped you, intertwining your fingers while pushing it back by your head.

“Keep it there, angel.” He said before kissing you once more, his tongue sliding in easily to tangle with your own. You let out a pretty moan at the sensation, your thighs rubbing together in pleasure as he let go of your hand to start toying with the straps of your nightgown.

“Azriel…” You whispered, turning your head to the side as he started to make his way down your neck while the straps fell easily down your arms. He smiled against your skin at the sound of your voice, the tingles it sent down his spine at how you were already pleading for him.

“I promise I will take care of you…” He mumbled against the valley of your breasts, pausing to listen to your fluttering heart. “But first I want to enjoy what utter perfection you are.”

You felt your stomach and heart flip at the sheer honesty of his words, looking down to see him staring at you with nothing but love. It made the moment reach a new high as he sat up straighter to cup your breasts in each hand, massaging them with his calloused fingers. Your nipples started to harden under his ministrations, your sex becoming even damper.

He bent back down to tease the tip of your right nipple, covering it in his spit and biting the nub until you let out a small cry of pain and pleasure.

“Do you know how much I dream of these, Y/N?” Azriel growled as he switched sides, his fingers pressing harder into your skin in an effort to control himself. “I feel as if I can never take my eyes off of them, the way they make your outfits tighter or when your nipples harden from the cold air. It makes my mouth water every single time.”

“I-” You tried to respond but the longer he continued to tease you, the harder it became to speak.

Azriel was never this vocal during sex. Occasional grunts and teasing words were normal, but he had never lavished you with this much attention, this much praise, and you were drowning in it.

By now your panties were soaked as were your thighs. The chill of the night was causing your entire body to be raked with shivers of anticipation, but your mate was nowhere near done with you yet. His body went lower as he abandoned your breasts in favor of your stomach and thighs, biting and nibbling his way until it felt as if he was trying to mark every inch of you as his.

“Stars above, I cannot get enough of your body.” He groaned into the night, pulling your legs apart so that you were exposed to him in the most intimate way. You knew how wet you are, sure that you were already dripping onto the satin sheets, but for the first time in a long time you didn’t try to shy away from his gaze.

And he noticed, sending a smoldering look that was filled with both lust and praise as he ran two fingers down your folds. The featherlight touch had your hips raising slightly to try and get more friction.

“Az…” You sighed while wiggling your hips. He licked his lips and withdrew his touch in favor of throwing your legs over his shoulders, shivering as the bare skin of your calves rubbed against his wings.

“Shhh, I’ve got you mouse,” Azriel promised while nestling between your thighs. “I’ll make you feel good, don’t worry.”

You had barely risen up to see what he was doing before the feeling of his tongue against your cunt sent you falling right back into the covers. He explored every crevice of you, letting the unique taste of your excitement explode on his tastebuds as he took his time.

Both of your hands fell to grip the bed below you, already feeling like you were going to float away from the pleasure. Azriel’s fingers tightened around your thighs as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit swiftly, holding you in place as you cried out his name.

His eyes were dark, darker than you had ever seen, as he watched you over the top of your sex. Your eyebrows were furrowed, hair messy, and your mouth in a perfect O as he drank down every bit of wetness he could get.

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” You moaned as the hot coil of pleasure started to coil in your lower abdomen. He moved away from your clit so that he could tease your hole, both of his hands moving from your thighs to grab under your ass so that you were practically suffocating his face.

“Let go, Y/N, let me taste this beautiful cunt.” Azriel grunted into you, going absolutely feral on your dripping pussy. He went back to your clit and started to alternate between sucking and flicking, his cock leaking through his leathers as your voice grew higher and louder. “Give me everything.”

It only took a few more moments of his unrelenting attention to make that coil snap, your orgasm ripping through your body like a hot star. Your voice cracked at the end of his name from how hard you screamed, juices gushing onto his face and the bed below as you ground against his face.

Azriel was more than happy to let you use him, committing the visual of you right now to memory. He didn’t slow down until your body melted into the sheets, gingerly removing his hands from your cheeks and slithering back up your body.

Your eyes were hazy, as well as your mind, as you clumsily reached for your mate and kissed him passionately. The taste of your sex was still on him, but you could care less, teasing the hair on the back of his neck as you twirled your tongue lazily against his.

He was so caught up in the kiss that he didn’t feel one of your hands move from his neck to the tops of his wings, his entire body jerking when your soft fingertips moved against the membranes of the skin.

“Tonight is supposed to be about you…” Azriel whispered though he made no move to stop you. You gave him an innocent smile while trailing down, down, down, tracing tiny patterns as you went.

“I just wanted to return the favor.” You teased, feeling his hardness pressing against your hip. “You know how much I love to touch them, to taste them.”

The visuals and touches were already pushing him close to the edge. And so, with the training of an Illyrian warrior, your mate snapped himself back into line and used his shadows to pull your wandering hands back above your head. You immediately pouted, but he shook his head, opening your thighs back up for him as he held you prisoner.

“Nice try, little mouse, but I want to focus on you.” He chided while using two fingers to probe your entrance. “As much as I love the look and taste of you, it’s the feeling of your tightness that drives me wild.”

Your eyes widened when he stuffed those two fingers into the hilt without warning, moaning and squirming at how sensitive you still were. Azriel watched your every reaction with rapt attention, moving in and out at different speeds and strengths to find what made you feel the best.

He used his other hand to untie the top of his pants, freeing his cock and immediately fisting it as he played you like his favorite song. You could hear just how slick he was with his own wetness, your face flushing when he hit that spongy spot deep inside you.

“Fuck,” Azriel snarled, his balls heavy with the need to release as you suddenly squeezed around his fingers. “You are driving me insane, Y/N. You’re going to be the death of me.”

His words were only making you hornier, your hands fighting against his restraints as he hit your button with every thrust of his fingers. Another orgasm was quickly growing, faster than you could vocalize, but he knew. He always knew.

Azriel made sure to clench the base of his cock to prevent him from cumming too early as he pushed you into another orgasm, biting the inside of his cheek as you clenched around his fingers needily.

“Azriel, oh gods!” You moaned as your eyes rolled back into your head, your body going completely fuzzy from the euphoria of his actions. He barely waited until you were finished before he withdrew his fingers and lifted you into the air, his shadows disappearing.

“I want you to ride me.” He growled, sitting against the headboard, so his wings didn’t get crushed as he placed you on his lap. It took you a moment to understand him, your muscles feeling like jello, as he waited patiently. “I want to see every inch of your perfect body swallow my cock.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you reached down to line himself up with your hole. It was going to be sensitive, but as you started to sink down and saw his face turn into one of pure rapture, all of your pains went away. He stretched you out wonderfully, your pussy taking him in until you bottomed out.

“Ahh-” Azriel moaned, gripping your hips to resist the urge to piston in and out. He was already close, and when you gave an experimental bounce, Azriel swore he would cum right then. “Ride me, Y/N. Take what’s yours.”

Each of your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you began to bounce and grind against his dick, your tits rocking with every descent as you threw your head back in pure pleasure. He watched you with hooded eyes, drinking in the sight, before attacking your neck and chest with kisses and bites.

“So beautiful,” He purred into your shoulder, helping you move with him. “Every inch of you is amazing.”

One of his hands moved to your lower back as your moans grew louder, just the feeling of his cock throbbing deep inside you making a third orgasm grow. You raised your head back up and grasped his face, crushing your mouth against his as he started to top from the bottom.

His mouth was hot against your own, nipping your bottom lip as he pulled you chest to chest. Azriel moved his lips to your ear and started to whisper praises of all kinds to you, sucking your earlobe as he called you his “pretty little whore”.

And as your rhythm started to falter, he was quick to flip you around onto your back, one of his hands gripping the headboard behind you as he rutted into you with everything he had. It felt like he was going to split you in two, but that was the last push you needed, your entire soul shattering into a million pieces as you screamed his name.

“Azriel!” You yelled, back arching off of the bed at the same time his wings flared widely, his own deep voice joining yours as he emptied himself inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Y/N.” He sighed as his own orgasm took his breath away, his body tingling from his head to his toes. You could feel him leaking out of you from just how much he had cum, but it only turned you on more.

He waited for a moment before pulling out, watching his cum go down the crack of your ass and onto the bed with a tired smirk. You tried to regain control of your breathing as he fell beside you, watching you lovingly.

“I think you just set a new record for me.” You joked breathlessly, turning your head so that you could look at him. Azriel smirked while brushing his knuckles down your sweat-soaked face.

“I’m more concerned with how you’re feeling.” He said softly, making your heart melt. You turned fully towards him and gave a small kiss to his nose, gazing at him with utter adoration.

“I’m much better now…and that’s all thanks to you.” You cooed, your eyes growing tired. “Thank you for everything, Az. I love you so much.”

Azriel pulled you into his body and kissed the top of your head, mumbling into your hair, “I love you too.” As you started to fall asleep in the warmness of his embrace. After a few minutes, when he was sure you were asleep, Azriel looked to the sky and said another thank you to whoever had gifted you to him.

He would never be able to repay them for such a precious, beautiful mate like you.

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